


A Piece of the Puzzle

by owlmug



Series: I Took Both Roads [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-27 18:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmug/pseuds/owlmug
Summary: Sean has learned a lot about himself recently, but now that Finn is living on Sean's couch, Sean needs to start assembling all the shattered pieces of his life.[High School AU]





	A Piece of the Puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Life Is Strange 2 High School AU where Finn and Cassidy live in Seattle. This story takes place before the final scene of my previous LiS2 High School AU fanfic, "A Way To Reappear." 
> 
> Once again, Finn's blue hair is inspired by this piece of fanart by the awesome, kind, and talented Bloodwrit! Thank you for everything, Bloodwrit!  
> https://bloodwrit.tumblr.com/post/185193875840/some-alternate-hair-cuts-for-finn-that-i-did-with

_I took a piece of the puzzle_  
_I took a souvenir_  
_I took both roads everywhere I went_  
_Now something’s gotta give_  
_If living is giving_  
_Then I’m ready_  
_I’m willing_

*

“Hey, Diaz!”

Derek Anderson waves from across the hallway, catching Sean’s attention as he shuts his locker.

“We’re going off-campus for lunch? You in?”

Jenn Murphy hangs off Derek’s arm, her face alight and hopeful. There are two guys with her and Derek that Sean doesn’t know, but they seem to know _him_ , which is weird and different, but also really cool.

Just like a lot of things in Sean’s life right now.

“Nah, I can’t!” he calls back, taking a strange delight in their disappointed faces. “Next time, okay?”

“You better mean it!”

Sean smiles by way of answer. A month ago, he’d have given anything to grab lunch with Jenn and Derek, but now… Fuck, _everything’s_ different now. A new season has come. The whole world is a new color, familiar but strange.

Like Sean’s haircut. He changed it not long ago, shaving it almost completely away, and leaving only a strip of black hair down the middle. Sean couldn’t have imagined himself like this when the school year began—nor half the things he’d done since then.

Lyla ambushes Sean just short of the student parking lot. She wants to have lunch with him too.

“It’s Taco Tuesday!” she says, like that’s supposed to entice him.

“Next time,” Sean says again. Lyla’s disappointment doesn’t feel as good as Jenn and Derek’s. “Sorry, but I gotta run home.”

Lyla’s disappointment becomes concern. “Is everything okay?”

Sean digs a set of car keys out of his pocket. A tacky, fake rabbit’s foot dangles from the keyring, its fur dyed blue. Sean would never buy such a thing, but Lyla knows exactly who would. Her eyebrows shoot upwards.

“Everything’s _great_ ,” Sean says.

“Explain!”

“Later—I promise.” Sean checks his phone, keenly aware of each passing minute.

“Is this why you weren’t here yesterday?”

“I’ll tell you everything after school. _Swear_.”

Though Lyla groans in protest, she pushes against his arm. “Okaaay, go! Get outta here!”

The keys belong to a rusted, red junker with pizza boxes and beer cans piled up in the back seat. As the engine sputters, the entire car begins to shake, as if saying, _Are you really sure about this?!_

Sean grinds the key. _No, but you’re all I’ve got_.

Suddenly, the engine roars, and the car jerks forward. _Fuck it! Let’s go!_

Soon enough, Sean is pulling onto his street. The driveways are empty; everyone’s at school or work. He pulls into his dad’s usual space and the car turns off with a great sigh of relief—both from Sean, and the vehicle. He drops his backpack the moment he steps through the front door, and finds the house just as empty as the driveway.

Well, almost.

There’s a figure asleep on the couch; a boy just a few years older than Sean, with brown-blue hair, and a ring looped though his nose. There are tattoos on his hands, and arms, and face; three triangles under his left eye, and a line splitting his chin. Usually, he has rings on his fingers and silver studs in his clothes, but right now he wears one of Sean’s old shirts—and pants, and socks.

Two nights ago, this boy climbed through Sean’s bedroom window, shaking and soaked through with rain. He was cold then, his skin icy against Sean’s—now, he’s the bizarre opposite, still shivering, still damp, but much, much too hot.

Sean presses a hand to his sweaty brow. Even in sleep, the boy trembles with fever, his breath raspy and face flushed red. There’s an empty water bottle and pile of used tissues next to the couch, but the cold medicine Dad left out for him remains untouched. Did he forget to take it? Or has he been asleep all morning?

Either way, Sean needs to wake him. He shakes the boy gently.

“Finn.”

The boy jerks at the sound of his name, but his eyes don’t open. He rolls sideways, burrowing into the couch cushions.

“Sean…” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

There’s a pause. Finn says something else, but Sean can’t make it out. He shakes Finn again.

“C’mon, man, you have to sit up.”

“Sean…” Finn’s eyes are still closed. “Tell Cass…”

Concern wrinkles Sean’s brow.

“Tell ‘er… she gotta go to school…”

Sean shifts uncomfortably. Cassidy is long gone, her number deleted from Sean’s phone. He won’t be telling her anything—and she wouldn’t even answer if he tried.

He shakes Finn a third time. Harder. More insistent.

Finn wakes at last. He rolls onto his back and stares up at Sean, eyes bleary. He tries to smile.

“Hey, sweetie… How’d’ju get here?”

Sean almost laughs. “We’re in my house, Finn.”

“Fuck… What?”

“You’re staying with us, remember?”

Finn blinks, disoriented. “Shit…”

“Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes for lunch. Can you drink this?” Sean brings the cold medicine to Finn’s lips. He sits up just long enough to drink it before sinking back into the cushions. Sean moves to clean up the tissues and refill the water bottle.

“Wait.” Finn grabs Sean by the wrist, his brow lined with concern. “Will your dad be pissed… at me stayin’?”

Something sharp and painful twinges in Sean’s chest. “No, dude. It was his idea.”

Finn’s expression changes. He looks the way Sean feels during Pre-Calc, like the numbers in his head just won’t add up.

“You… You sure?”

“Yeah. We’re cool.”

Finn nods, unconvinced. But he shuts his eyes, and it’s not long before his breath evens out and sleep claims him. He’s shaking less than before, and his brow isn’t quite so hot to the touch—but for some reason, the pain in Sean’s chest won’t go away.

He makes sure Finn has everything he needs. Water, tissues, medicine. A book and the television remote, easily within reach. Finn is still asleep when Sean goes back to the car, and though he puts the key in the ignition, he doesn’t turn it. He pulls out his phone instead.

_Hey, can you pick up Daniel after school? Please?_

Sean hesitates before hitting _Send_. It feels weird, asking Dad for a favor after… _everything_ , but…

Dad replies in less than a minute. A rare thing when he’s working, but Sean has a feeling that Dad’s keeping an eye on his phone today.

_Finn’s car broke down didn’t it?_

Sean snorts. He almost wants to say _Yes_. It would be a good excuse to stay here instead of going back to school, but… Fuck.

Honesty. Trust. Dad’s fucking earned it, and Sean wants… Sean wants to be better at it.

 _No_ , he types, fingers trembling. _I just really need to talk to Lyla. In person. Without Daniel bugging us._

He sends the message, but his fingers keep moving.

_A lot has happened, and I need my best friend right now, you know?_

A minute goes by, then two. Sean grips the steering wheel of Finn’s busted old car; his heart is pounding, terrified in a way Sean can’t properly describe. Why is this so hard? It’s almost like… like sure, getting caught in a lie sucks, but telling the truth… _hurts_. It makes him vulnerable, somehow. Open to attack.

His phone buzzes.

_That’s fine, mijo. Just be home before dinner, okay?_

Sean exhales, a weak smile crossing his face. He has the best fucking dad.

 _Will do. Promise_.

*

Lyla grimaces as she crawls into the passenger’s seat of Finn’s car. There’s an empty cereal box and several crumpled napkins where her feet should go; she chooses to curl her knees into her chest, feet on the seat and back against the door.

“How can someone so gross be so fucking cool?” she asks, meaning Finn.

Sean shrugs, already comfortable behind the steering wheel. “I dunno. Isn’t that part of being cool? Not giving a shit?”

“You tell me, dude.” Lyla lays her cheek on the headrest, as if to take a nap there in the car. “I’m not the one scoring lunch dates with Jenn Murphy.”

The student parking lot is emptying around them. Sean can hear the shouts and commotion of school letting out, muffled by the quiet safety of Finn’s car. He and Lyla could go somewhere, hang out the park they used to play at when they were little, but that would only delay the inevitable. They haven’t talked— _really_ talked—since Lyla’s birthday, the first week of October. It’s November now. _Way_ too fucking long.

Sean pulls a lever at the base of his seat, leaning it back completely. He lies down with it, hands on his stomach. He looks like he’s going to sleep, too—or like he’s spread out on a couch, and Lyla is his therapist.

Lyla, the Love Witch. Lyla, the... Love… Councilor.

“Jenn’s with Derek now,” he says. He hopes he doesn’t sound disappointed, because he’s not—but he also hopes he doesn’t sound relieved.

“Sorry dude, but that’s what you get for slow playing it. You didn’t even _talk_ to her at Eric’s party.”

A slight heat rises into Sean’s face. He was a little… preoccupied… at Eric’s party. “Yeah, I know.”

Lyla is silent. Sean can tell she’s waiting for him to speak, but he… hesitates. How to explain the last six weeks? Lyla knows the outline—how Sean met Cassidy, a Senior at their school, and her foster brother, Finn. How Cassidy ran away, leaving Finn alone and bringing him and Sean closer together. But the details… The details are a door that’s difficult to open, even for his best friend.

So Lyla knocks. “Why do you have Finn’s car, dude?”

Sean exhales. He can feel his stomach deflate beneath his hands. “He’s kind of… staying at my house.”

“Okay…” Sean can tell that Lyla wants to ask about a dozen questions, but she settles for just one. “But why isn’t _he_ driving us home?”

Sean hesitates again. _Details_.

He turns his head, looking at Lyla. “So… He has this really shitty dad.”

“Relatable,” Lyla murmurs.

“No, seriously. This guy makes The Momster look like Parent of the Fucking Year.”

Lyla’s mouth twists into a frown. “You don’t wanna go there, dude.”

“Fine—he makes _Karen_ look like Parent of the Year.” Sean turns away again, staring at the faded, sagging felt on the ceiling. “The point is, he tried to get Finn mixed up in his bullshit, so Finn ran away… to… my house.”

“Shit,” Lyla whispers, but that’s all. Sean takes a deep breath.

“It was raining. He crawled into my bedroom window, fucking _drenched_. He wanted to hide out, but Dad must’ve heard him, ‘cause… a minute later, he walked in. We were so busted, Lyla. I thought Dad was gonna… I dunno, kick him out, or call the fucking cops.”

“But… he didn’t?” Lyla prompts.

“Yeah. Dad was… really cool about it.” About a lot of things, actually. “He said Finn could stay with us for a while. That’s why I wasn’t at school yesterday. We slept until noon. Ordered a pizza. All of us—even Daniel. It was perfect.”

Sean doesn’t think he’s ever used the word _perfect_ to describe Daniel, but it really was. The picture just wouldn’t have been complete without Daniel’s stupid smile or the way he made Finn laugh.

“Where is Finn now?” Lyla asks.

“Sick. I guess he was out in the rain too long.”

Lyla makes a long _oooh_ of realization. All the pieces have snapped into place. She feels like she has the full story now, but there are still… details, fucking _details_ , that Sean still can’t find the courage to say.

“So, wait—question. Is Finn living with you for, like… ever?”

Sean looks at her again. “What do you mean?”

“Is he just… crashing until the shit with his dad blows over, or moving in?”

Sean stares at Lyla’s shoes. Oh. Shit. He assumed… Well, he’d _hoped_ …

He’d pictured Finn, living on their couch. Working in Dad’s garage. Helping with Daniel. Playing video games, cooking, smoking on the porch, laughing. It was perfect in Sean’s head. And easy. But now that he really thinks about it… Imagines Finn living in his house the way Finn lives in his filthy apartment, with beers and weed and garbage…

Dad’s cool, but he’s not _that_ cool.

“I dunno,” is all Sean can say. Lyla sighs.

“Damn, dude. That’s a lot. When did your life become a soap opera?”

A snort from Sean. “I mean, it kind of always was. Even before Finn.” All that shit with Karen. All the shit Sean kept from his dad, all the… anger and frustration. That’s been there for a long fucking time. “Finn just… kind of has a way of drawing these things out.”

Lyla hums with understanding. Sean looks at the ceiling again, but closes his eyes.

“There’s… one other thing.”

Silence. Patience. Fuck, just _say_ it.

“I kind of, um… hooked up with him.”

The sound Lyla makes is _resplendent_.

“I knew it! I fucking _knew it_! You hooked up at Eric’s party, didn’t you?!”

Sean snaps his gaze to Lyla, heartbeat quickening. “How did you-?”

“Dude, you were my ride home, remember? No, wait—” Lyla’s grin widens. Her eyes are sparkling. “You probably _don’t_ remember, since you and Finn were too busy eye-fucking the entire drive.”

Sean’s mind races, trying to recall anything he might have done to make Lyla… suspect. You know, besides writhing under Finn in the woods behind Eric’s parents’ cabin.

“But you didn’t… There’s no, like… rumor or anything, is there?”

“No, dude. You’re cool.” Lyla’s tone goes soft, and serious. “Everyone was trashed. I only noticed because I’ve known you forever. You’ve never looked at _anyone_ the way looked at him.”

Sean knows the look. Or at least, he’s pretty sure he does. It’s probably a lot like how Finn looks at _him_ , like he can’t even believe that Sean is real.

Sean steels himself as Lyla inhales. Here it comes. The inevitable question.

“So, are you, like…?”

“I dunno.”

Sean covers his face with his hands. Fuck, just let a meteor fall on him right now. Let his whole body turn to dust.

“That’s cool!” Lyla says too quickly. “You don’t have to… You know.”

“It’s just so fucking confusing!” Sean says, still hidden beneath his hands. “I never even… _thought_ about guys, before Finn. I don’t _want_ other guys the way I want Finn.”

At least, he doesn’t think he does. He hasn’t really thought about it. Some boys are cute, but most are _gross_ and… If Finn wasn’t an option, would Sean just go back to thinking about girls? Girls are nice. _Really_ fucking nice. With their hips, and curvy legs and… soft… _everything_.

Cassidy, cuddling close to Sean in Finn’s apartment. Cassidy’s cheek on his shoulder, and low voice in his ear. Cassidy, strumming her guitar, singing, the air filled with sweet music as Finn lay his head on Sean’s lap, blue bangs falling in waves across his brow.

“I just… _really_ like him, Lyla.”

Beyond the dark seclusion of Sean’s hands, still pressed over his face, Lyla’s voice is a warm comfort. “Then what the fuck else matters? Just roll with it.”

Sean’s hands slip back down to his stomach. He tries to look at Lyla, but ends up staring at her shoes again. “Thanks for being so cool.”

“Yeah, dude. Best Freaking Fighters—always.”

“Please don’t… tell anyone?” Sean’s ears are burning. His foot jangles down near the gas pedal. “I’m not… ready. I want to figure this out for myself, before other people… figure it out for me.”

“Whatever you want, Sean. I got your back.”

*

Sean is home well before dinner. There was time when he would have stayed with Lyla until the very last minute, or at least until Dad sent a text or two wondering where he was. But… home isn’t the drag it used to be. Home is actually kind of cool.

“Sean!”

Sean’s barely through the door before Daniel rushes him, waving a sheet of paper in his face.

“Can you sign this? It’s a card for Finn!”

“Dude—what?”

Sean cranes around Daniel and peers into the living room. Finn is still on the couch, dead to the world. His mouth is wide open in deep slumber.

Daniel shoves the card into his hands. Under the words _Get Well Soon,_ he’s drawn a bear punching a cluster of green blobs.

“Dude, is this… Power Bear? Fighting boogers?”

“ _Germs_!” Daniel corrects. He’s clearly insulted.

“Right, right… My bad.”

“Just sign it,” Daniel scoffs.

“He’s going to love it, _mijo_ ,” Dad says from the kitchen. He’s busy at the stove, adding shredded chicken to a pot. Sean brightens a little; he knew he recognized that scent. Dad always makes _caldo tlalpeño_ when Sean and Daniel are sick _._

Sean lays Daniel’s card on the counter and looks for a place to sign his name. There are two names on it already _—_ _Daniel_ _,_ and _Esteban_ _._

 _Esteban_ _._

Sean feels a sharp twinge again, though what it is, or where it comes from, Sean doesn’t know.

Finn snores, suddenly and loudly. It’s the first sound he’s made since Sean stepped through the front door; or in a long time, given Dad and Daniel’s expressions. They watch Finn roll over, mutter something, and fall completely silent once more.

“He’ll be fine,” Dad says. Sean thinks he’s comforting Daniel, until Dad grips him by the shoulder. Sean looks across the counter and finds Dad reaching across it, a reassuring smile on his lips.

“Oh… I know. It’s… just a dumb cold.”

“Did you have a good talk with Lyla?”

Dad’s hand doesn’t move. A part of Sean wants to pull away—an old, ugly part of him, one he’s been trying to let go of, ever since Finn crawled through his window.

“Yeah… I really needed it.” Sean rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks, Dad.”

The grip on his shoulder tightens, then falls away. Dad goes back to the stove, and Daniel tugs on Sean’s arm.

“Can you help me with my math homework?”

Sean groans. “Not really my best subject, dude.” Daniel pouts at that answer, and for some reason it doesn’t _completely_ get on Sean’s nerves. “But… yeah, let’s take a look.”

Finn wakes a few hours later, still bleary-eyed and red faced, but more coherent than he was at lunchtime. He’s able to drag himself to the kitchen counter and slump between Daniel and Sean. Dad leans across the counter and presses a hand to Finn’s brow.

Finn goes incredibly still beneath Esteban’s hand. His eyes widen in a way that reminds Sean of a rabbit. It would be cute, if he wasn’t so genuinely terrified.

“I think the fever broke,” Dad says. He pats the counter. “Go, on eat up.”

“Uh… yeah,” Finn says, slightly dazed, like he’s still waking from a dream. He blinks at the soup in front of him, then the stock pot and cutting board over by the stove. “Hang on, you… _made_ this? With like… real vegetables an’ shit?”

Esteban chuckles into his own bowl of soup. “More like vegetables and _chicken_.”

“Fuckin’ A…!” Finn’s eyes go wide again, but for completely different reasons.

“Does Finn have to put money in the swear jar?” Daniel asks. Dad is quiet for just a heartbeat too long.

“We’ll let him off the hook while he’s sick.”

Sean changes the subject. “Hey _enano_ , show Finn your card.”

“Card?” Finn says around his spoon. “Shit, is it my birthday? Did I sleep that long?”

“It’s a ‘get well soon’ card!” Daniel says, as if Finn can’t read the words. “But—those aren’t supposed to be boogers. They’re germs, and Power Bear is punching them so you’ll feel better.”

“Lookit that!” Finn wheezes. His fingertips trace the signatures. _Sean. Daniel. Esteban_. “Thanks, little man. This is… the best card I ever got.”

Daniel beams at the praise, but Esteban… Esteban looks at Finn the way he looks at a busted engine, trying to figure what went wrong. Which pieces need cleaning, and which need… replacing. Finn doesn’t notice, too enamored with his card and soup, but Sean does, and that sharp, inexplicable pain twists inside of him.

*

Finn gets better as the week goes on. By Thursday he’s playing hide-and-seek with Daniel and hoarding Dad’s books by the couch.

Friday morning, Finn’s car really does break down. It just sits in the driveaway and refuses to move. Sean has to sprint to catch the bus instead. He sits with Lyla, who is absolutely miserable because Thanksgiving is in two weeks and her grandparents are coming to visit.

“My grandma is such a _bitch_ ,” she whines. “She’s like… the Grand-Bitch. The bitch from which all other bitches spring.”

“Isn’t she the one who sends you a huge check every Christmas?” Sean says, thinking of Claire’s tidy handwriting and all those empty _thoughts and prayers_.

“Yeah but like… You don’t see what happens when she, my mom and her sister all get in the same room. They like… _combine_ … into one giant, Momster Mech.” Lyla flexes her hands, like she’s assembling one of Daniel’s robot toys. “It’s going to _suck_ , Sean.”

Sean smirks. Lyla complains, but she’ll get blazed with her cousin and have a great time.

“You’re lucky,” Lyla says, slumped against the window. “Just you and your dad and Daniel, eating tons of food and watching movies. None of this… extended family bullshit.”

Sean’s smile melts away. Once again, he thinks of tidy handwriting and birthday cards, signed _Claire and Stephen_ , instead of _Grandma and Grandpa_. 

Finn texts Sean throughout the day. He’s doing a lot better—and excited for the weekend. Now that he can walk straight, he wants to go back to his old apartment and pack up a few things. His books. His PlayBox games. An actual change of clothes.

 _But you look so hot in my old shirts_ , Sean types, phone hidden under his desk.

_Yeah but itd be real nice to have clean underwear <3_

Sean tries not laugh right in the middle class. _Fuck it, go commando_

Finn sends two replies, one right after the other.

_You nasty  
Just like me <3_

Sean has track practice after school, so without a bus to catch or a car to drive, he has to walk home. He tries to text Finn, but he’s too busy playing video games with Daniel.

_I need these thumbs to blow up aliens sweetie!!!_

_Aren’t I more important than the fate of the world?!_ Sean replies.

_Get here quick you can help us! RUN!_

Sean doesn’t run, but he does walk with a little more energy than usual. When he gets home, he finds Dad’s car in the driveway, right next to Finn’s—and Dad himself, cleaning the junk out of Finn’s back seat.

“I tried to leave it, I really did!” Esteban says, cramming pizza boxes and oil-stained rags into a garbage bag.

“Guess you’ve been a dad too long,” Sean grins. Esteban doesn’t ask for help, but Sean lingers anyway. It feels… wrong, to just let Dad clean this mess by himself.

The back seat takes a while to clean, and the trunk even longer. Heat rises into Sean’s face when realizes just how many beer cans there are. Sometimes, Finn seems really old to Sean, but he’s only nineteen, and Dad knows it.

“Finn doesn’t really drink this much…” Sean murmurs. Dad probably won’t believe him, but he has to say it.

“Hm,” Esteban replies. There’s a scar underneath his lip that’s not unlike Finn’s tattoo, running from the corner of his mouth to his chin. It stretches now, as Esteban makes a face that isn’t quite a frown.

“Really,” Sean says, the heat intensifying. “He only drinks at, like… parties and shit. I mean—” Sean’s face is on _fire_. “Not- not Eric’s party, he didn’t drink… that night…”

Just stop talking, dude. Just shut your fucking mouth.

“Sean—it’s okay,” Dad says. “I know he’s… kind of rough. Just promise me you’ll be careful? And that you’ll call if… anything ever gets out of hand.”

Sean sighs. He tries to relax, but it’s… it’s really fucking hard, even after… everything Dad’s done.

“I promise.”

Sean’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Finn.

_ALIENS HAVE OVERRUN NEW YORK!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!_

_I’ll be right in dude. Just helping Dad with your car._

Sean slips the phone back into his pocket. A moment later, he hears the front door open—then Finn walks into the driveway.

“Oh… hey, sweetie.” Finn raises a hand in greeting, but that hand quickly finds the back of Finn’s neck. “You guys don’t gotta do that…”

“Be cool to have room to sit in here,” Sean grins.

Finn’s mouth stretches like Esteban’s did before, almost frowning.

“Yeah, but it’s… kinda a lost cause,” he shrugs. “You can wash ‘er all you like, but my car ain’t gittin’ any less busted.”

“Just because something’s busted and old, doesn’t mean you can’t treat it nice,” says Dad. He nudges Sean with an elbow. “Hint, hint.”

Finn nubs at his neck. “Hey, Sean, you wanna… um…”

He falters. It’s obvious he started that sentence without knowing how it would end. Sean stops cleaning and shoots him a confused look. Why is Finn acting so… awkward?

Wait. Did Dad not… _ask_ … before cleaning Finn’s car?

Oh.

 _Oh_ —

“Shit.”

It’s not Sean or even Finn who speaks, but Esteban. He barely whispers the word, but it still catches Sean by surprise. Dad doesn’t swear—at least, not outside his garage, where he thinks no one can hear him. Finn’s gaze drops to the ground.

Sean forces himself to look into the trunk. Dad hovers over a shoe box, stuffed with several old receipts and several more ounces of weed.

It’s way too much to be Finn’s personal stash. It practically has “Intent To Distribute” written on the lid. If only Sean had grabbed the box first; if only Dad had thrown it away without looking inside.

Esteban straightens. “I… want to unsee this.”

There’s a pause. Then, weirdly, Finn looks up. A smile lights his face.

“Then… unsee it!” he says, shrugging like… like he’s playing with Daniel. _You found me. Now you go hide, and I’ll seek_.

But Esteban’s expression doesn’t change. He _can’t_ unsee it.

Yeah, he’s definitely been a dad too long.

“Listen—“ he says, turning to Finn, whose gaze drops away once more. “I know the crazy shit kids get up to, but I don’t want it in my house. Fair enough?”

Finn bobs his head. “Yeah, fair ‘nuff…”

Esteban turns back to the trunk.

“’Cept…”

Sean’s heart stops dead in his chest.

“It weren’t in _your_ house. It was in _my_ car.”

Finn shrugs again, lifting his arms and letting them fall heavily to his side. But he still won’t look at Esteban, who straightens again.

“ _You’re_ in my house,” he says sternly. “And you’re around _my_ sons. You wanna get arrested, you do it out _there_.”

Dad jabs a finger towards the street. Finn says nothing.

“Daniel is nine. We have to set good examples for him.”

Finn nods again. He spins the ring on his forefinger. “I’m… tryin’.”

“I know.”

There’s a pause, and then Esteban takes the garbage bag out of Sean’s hands.

“Why don’t you two head inside? I’ll finish up here.”

Walking to front door, Sean thinks about the ounce of weed hidden in his desk. What would that conversation have looked like, if Esteban had found Sean’s stash instead?

Some of the phrases would have been the same. _My house, my rules. Good example for Daniel_. But… something would have been different. Something critical. Something… Sean can’t quite place.

He plays the scene over again and again, even as he settles onto the couch and Daniel begins chatting away about alien invaders. Soon, Finn is laughing with him, but Sean is only distantly aware of it, his mind still in the driveway.

Daniel waves for Dad the second he steps through the door. “We’re gonna get the high score! Come see!”

“In a minute, _mijo_ ,” Dad says, moving into the kitchen. He usually starts dinner about now, but today he just stands there and sighs.

“Hey—” he calls into the living room. “It’s Friday. I’m thinking pizza.”

Finn and Daniel both cheer, raising their PlayBox controllers into the air. Dad digs around in the junk drawer for pizza coupons.

The television lets out a sad, melodic tune. Daniel’s character dies just short of the alien hive, while Finn’s charges ahead towards victory. Daniel throws his controller on the floor.

“Bull _shit_!” he cries.

“ _Hey_!”

Dad slams his hand on the kitchen counter. Everyone jumps.

“Quarter, in the jar!” he says.

Daniel’s getting off easy. That same word would cost Sean a dollar. But Daniel crosses his arms and sinks deeper into the couch.

“ _Finn_ doesn’t have to.”

“ _Finn isn’t_ —!”

Dad cuts himself short. Closes his eyes and inhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. No one else dares to breathe.

“Quarter. In the jar. _Now_.”

Daniel doesn’t argue, but he does stomp the whole way to the kitchen. Finn stares at his controller and Sean watches Finn’s video game character getting swarmed by aliens. A few critical heartbeats later, Daniel slams his quarter into the swear jar.

“ _Happy_?” he pouts, arms crossed. Dad sighs again. The hand on his face drops down and settles in Daniel’s hair.

“Yeah. You want extra cheese on your pizza, _mijo_?”

Daniel squirms, like he wants to say _no_ just to spite his dad, but he can’t bring himself to do it. “Yes, please.”

“Alright. Go play.”

His thumb rubs softly across Daniel’s brow, and in that small gesture, Sean can see what went wrong in the driveway. It’s not the words that would have changed. Everything Dad said, he would have said to Sean—but with a hand on Sean’s shoulder. Firm. Reassuring. And he would have ended the conversation with a hug, whether Sean returned it or not.

*

The pizza’s good. Daniel actually lets Sean eat the last slice, instead of whining until Dad gave it him. The night ends with more video games and less swearing—not just from Daniel, but from Finn, too.

There’s a lot less of everything from Finn. Less smiling. Less laughter. No hand on Sean’s knee; no arm around his shoulders. Not even when Dad and Daniel disappear for a bedtime story. Finn just sits there on the couch, hands in his lap, eyes pointed at the television.

Sean…

Sean fucking misses him.

He’s seen Finn every day this week, and Sean _still_ misses him. They haven’t really spent any time together since Finn got sick. No—since Eric’s party, before Halloween. Finn’s dad showed up after that, then there was a week of silence, and suddenly Finn was crawling through Sean’s window and…

And here they are.

They haven’t talked about anything. _Anything_. Sean’s high school bullshit. Finn’s dad. What comes next, or… what happened between them, in the woods. On a bed of leaves.

Slowly—so slowly, he barely moves at all—Sean brushes the back of Finn’s hand. There’s a circle and a large letter _N_ tattooed there, like the compass on a map pointing north.

Finn turns his head. Meets Sean’s gaze.

“Hey,” Sean whispers.

Finn smiles softly—almost sadly. “Hey.”

Their lips come together. It’s their first kiss since Finn came to Sean with muddy boots and clothes soaked through rain. There’s a relief to it, like a sigh. A breath held too long. A letter that finally arrives.

Behind them—the sound of a door opening. Dad steps out of Daniel’s bedroom.

Sean and Finn let the kiss drop away. Esteban knows about them, about their… relationship, but it’s still fucking awkward, kissing a boy in front of your dad.

Esteban settles into his armchair, positioned just left of the couch. Sean and Finn pretend to watch television, until Esteban picks up the remote and turns it off.

“Can we talk?”

Sean shrugs. Finn does and says nothing.

“You’ve been here a week,” Esteban says, his eyes settling on Finn. “I need to know what the plan is. What… _your_ plans are.”

Finn raises his shoulders and lefts them drop. He’s fiddling with his rings again, spinning them over the letters tattooed above his knuckles. They say _F R E E_ on one hand. _P I Z A_ on the other.

“Yeah, it’s…” Finn takes a breath. “It’s prob’ly time for me to bounce.”

Esteban nods, but Sean’s heart is in his throat. What happened to their weekend plans? Packing up Finn’s things, and bringing them here?

“But hey, it was real cool’a you guys to… take care’a me. Y’know, when I was sick.”

Sean wants to argue. He wants to be here, in this room, having this conversation, but instead he’s in Finn’s apartment, watching Finn sweat from another fever, alone on his couch with no one to bring him medicine or make him soup…

Esteban must be thinking something similar, because he leans forward on his knees and says, “If your father comes back, you call me. He gives you any trouble at all, you come _here_. _Comprendé?”_

Finn nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He almost stands up, but Dad reaches out, stilling Finn completely. “Hey, hey—it’s the middle of the night. You don’t have to rush off.”

“Oh. Right, yeah.” Finn blinks hard, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“We’ll have a big breakfast. Send you off right. Cool?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Except it’s not.

It actually really fucking sucks.

*

Daniel agrees about the overall suckiness of the situation.

“You _can’t_ go! Dad said you were staying here!”

“Not forever, _mijo_ ,” Dad says quietly.

“Why not?!”

Finn shuffles on his stool. “’Cause that just… ain’t how it works, little man.”

“ _Why not_?!”

“Dude, will you quit whining?” Sean snaps. “It’s not gonna change anything.”

Daniel makes a face at Sean, like this is all his fault, somehow. He snatches up the bottle of syrup and dumps the last of it over his pancakes, leaving none for Sean or Esteban. A nine-year-old’s idea of revenge.

Finn touches Daniel’s arm. “Hey… We’re still gonna hang out. I’ll come over on weekends. An’ we can play online.”

Daniel’s grunts, unconvinced. “I guess.”

He takes a bite of soggy pancakes and for a moment, it seems like things might be okay. But then—

“Please stay!”

“ _Daniel_.” Dad’s tone has a hint of warning.

“Just one more night! Please! We can… have a sleepover! Me and Finn and Sean! Please, Dad? _Please_?”

Daniel brings his hands together, begging. He looks much, much younger than he really is, his eyes round and shining with the threat of tears.

Oldest trick in the baby brother handbook.

“Alright, _alright_ ,” Dad laughs. “Stop, please. My heart can only take so much!”

Daniel brightens at once. His tears vanish like magic. He looks between Finn and Sean, clearly proud of himself. Sean rolls his eyes, but Finn high-fives him under the counter.

They try to make it a perfect day. Video games after breakfast, then a movie. Daniel and Lyla pile into the back seat of Finn’s newly cleaned car.

“Seatbelts!” Dad calls.

They argue about what movie they’re going to see. Daniel wins, because of course he does, and they end up watching some dumb cartoon that’s actually kind of fun to watch ironically. Finn mixes candy into the popcorn (gross, in Sean’s opinion, but mind-blowing in Daniel’s) and Lyla pretends that they’re watching a horror movie, constantly shouting, “Don’t go in there!” at random times. All four of them are doing it, by the end.

That night, after Lyla goes home, the boys make a pillow fort in the living room. Sean searches the garage for extra blankets and finds them tucked away above a bunch of old boxes marked _Karen_. He ignores them and returns upstairs.

“Sean?” Daniel says in the darkness. Sean opens his eyes and blinks at the blanket ceiling.

“Yeah?”

“Can you… tell us a story?”

Sean groans. “Aren’t you a little old for that, dude?”

“Shit, I wanna bedtime story!” says Finn. He’s on laying on Sean’s left; Daniel, to the right.

“I’m… not as good as Dad. But… I can try.”

Sean hesitates, still staring at the blanket overhead. Even in the darkness, Sean can see the holes in its thin fabric; it reminds him of the felt on the ceiling of Finn’s car, old and sagging.

Sean really isn’t very good at telling stories. Not like Dad. Dad does voices and… he makes everything sound cool and mysterious. He can tell a story about anything; imaginary things, impossible things. But Sean…

Sean only ever draws what he can see.

“Once upon a time… In a wild, wild world… There was a Young Wolf, living in a den with his Papa Wolf, and his brother, the Little Pup.”

Daniel sighs. Sean can feel him settling into the blankets, his eyes closed and ready for sleep.

“They were happy together, but the Young Wolf thought… Maybe I should be a Lone Wolf. So, he left the den, and wandered into the forest. There, he met a… a, uh…”

Sean rolls his head, looking at Finn. He’s lying on his side, facing away from Sean; the _Misty Mice_ logo is emblazoned on his back, one of Sean’s favorite bands—and favorite shirts.

“He met a Rat,” Sean laughs. Finn laughs too, his shoulders shaking in the darkness. “A messy, carefree Rat, who showed the Young Wolf many new things. Places to hide. Games to play. Their time together was exciting and… crazy. They never wanted their games to end… until the Young Wolf got homesick.”

Finn goes very, very still. No more laughter.

“He brought the Rat to his den. The Little Pup adored him. Played with him. But the Papa Wolf… wasn’t so sure. He sniffed, and he growled… and the Rat ran away, into the dark forest.”

Sean blinks hard at Finn’s back. He hasn’t moved at all. Hasn’t made a sound.

“Hunters came, with their cages… and rifles… And one night, in the cold, hard rain… The Rat crawled into the wolf den, shivering and afraid. He needed help, so the Young Wolf licked his wounds. The Little Pup slept at his side. And the Papa Wolf… so big… and strong… and scary…”

Sean swallows hard. He slides a hand across the blanket, and lays it between Finn’s shoulders.

“The Papa Wolf stood guard at the door, protecting all of his sons from harm.”

Finally, in the quiet darkness, a sound—but not much of one. Just the mere rustle of blankets as Finn curls into himself, becoming smaller than the boy sprawled out beside Sean.

*

Sunday morning. Finn is wearing his own clothes; the clothes he wore a week ago, in the pounding rain. He looks almost strange, after a week in Sean’s shirts. Like Sean’s meeting him again for the first time. Every detail is hauntingly the same; the tattoos, the piercings. The blue hair, swept to one side. The rings on his fingers and lopsided grin on his face.

“Promise you’ll visit soon?” Daniel says, his arms tight around Finn’s middle.

“C’mon little man, I’m just goin’ down town.”

“ _Promise_?”

“Okay, geeze!” Finn laughs. “I promise!”

Daniel detaches himself and Finn takes a step backwards. Sean and Daniel are standing on the porch; Dad isn’t here.

Dad _should_ be here. Sean called for him, then actually went down to the garage to get him. Dad was flat on his back beneath a rusty brown car, and said he wouldn’t be done for a while.

Finn gives Sean a wink, and a two-fingered salute. “Be seein’ you, sweetheart.”

He starts jogging towards his car. Sean expects Daniel to cry out, but he doesn’t.

So Sean does.

“Finn!”

A turn. Ringed fingers stuffed in frayed pockets.

“Lemme come?” Sean asks, hands jangling. “We could… hang out, like old times…”

Cigarettes. Fast food. Finn’s couch. Sean’s hair, falling to the floor.

“Nah, sweetie…” Finn says, and Sean’s heart plummets into his stomach. “Believe it or not, I got shit to do. Rent don’t pay itself.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool.”

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have let Finn go and not made a total fucking idiot of himself, whining like Daniel when he doesn’t get his way.

Soon enough—too soon, in fact—Finn’s car rolls out of sight. Sean turns to go back inside. He feels a childish need to hug his dad—but that’s also the last person in the world he wants to talk to right now.

A pair of arms wrap around Sean’s waist.

“I’m really going to miss him,” Daniel sniffs.

“Yeah. Me too, _enano_.”

*

Over the next week, Sean actually looks forward to going to school. Pre-Calc still sucks and he fucked up his Chem lab, but the stuff outside of class—riding the bus with Lyla, running track with Ellery—is immensely, _unbelievably_ cool.

He finally gets off-campus lunch with Jenn and Derek. They’re really chill. And they give no fucks. Being with them kind of reminds Sean of hanging with Finn and Cassidy, before Cassidy bailed. They’re fun, and confident, and really easy to talk to, but at the same time they feel… out of Sean’s reach, somehow. Like, any moment he’s going to say the wrong thing, and they’ll realize what a complete loser he really is, and kick him out of the car.

But at least school gets him out of the house. Away from Dad. Away from Daniel, whining because Finn isn’t online. Away from his phone, which Finn won’t answer, and the text messages he rarely replies to.

 _Wanna come over this weekend?_ Sean asks. It takes an hour for Finn to reply.

_Can’t sweetie. Swamped. Sorry <3_

Sean’s throat is tight. _I could come to your place. I’ll take the bus._

_Really swamped. We’ll talk soon okay?_

_Okay_

It’s fucking not though, and Sean wishes everyone would keep saying it is.

*

Sean comes home from his Saturday shift at Z-Mart and finds the living room piled high with fresh laundry, neatly folded and stacked. Dad does this sometimes; he gets sick of all the dirty clothes lying around and dedicates a whole day to sorting it all. Sean would feel guilty if he hadn’t just worked the worst shift of his life. It involved a group of kids and a slushie machine. Don’t ask.

“Just in time, Seanie-boy!” Dad says, patting a stack of t-shirts. “I just finished folding your clothes. Now you can put them away.”

Sean groans, but complies. He ambles into the living room with sore limbs and shoes still sticky with red slushie. He reaches out to accept the stack of clothes, and there, on top, is a shirt with silver studs and a grinning skull.

Finn’s shirt. The one Sean wore to Eric’s Halloween party. The one Finn splattered with fake blood and then covered with dirt, when he kissed Sean for the first time and dragged him down onto a bed of leaves.

Sean never put that shirt in the laundry hamper. He draped it over the beanbag in his room, because he never wanted it washed, never wanted it to lose the red splatter or scent of sweat and earth.

Numb, Sean returns his bedroom and dumps the clean clothes in a drawer. But Finn’s shirt… Sean falls into bed with that shirt, tucking it beneath his chin. He inhales the crisp scent of detergent and feels the dryer’s artificial heat. Finn’s scent is gone. That whole night is gone. Like Finn, pulling out of the driveway, never seen again.

Sean drops the shirt. He stills has something else—one last reminder of that night.

He hurries to his bedside table. Finn’s rings are there, next to a stack of magazines and a fantasy book Sean never has the time to read. Sean picks them up, slips them on his fingers—except, wait.

There’s only five.

Where’s the black ring? The biggest one, meant to be worn on a thumb.

Sean looks under the magazines. Drops down to search the floor. Under his desk, his bed. Where the _fuck_ did it go?!

“ _Daniel!_ ”

Sean practically knocks down his door.

“Where is it?!”

Daniel scrambles to his feet. “What? What did I do?”

“You went into my room! You took my ring!”

“Nuh-uh!” Daniel says, his tone laden with guilt. Fucking liar.

“Give it back!”

“I didn’t take it!”

“Give it _back_ , you little shit!”

“Shut up!”

Suddenly, Daniel’s head is wedged under Sean’s arm, and he’s screaming, and Sean is swearing, because this is all such fucking _bullshit_ —

“Hey!”

Dad tries to pull them apart, but Daniel keeps thrashing. He lands a blow on Sean’s jaw and Sean shoves him to the floor.

“Ow!” Daniel wails, tears springing to his eyes even though Sean didn’t even push him that hard, he just wants Dad to take his side. “Sean hit me!”

“Enough!” Dad cries. “What is this?!”

Their explanations are loud and vulgar. Daniel owes five dollars to the swear jar by the end of it. Sean owes ten.

“ _Enough!_ ” Dad shouts again. “Daniel—do you have the ring?”

Daniel wavers. Esteban’s expression is hard and unyielding—no nine-year-old would dare lie to such a face.

“S-Sean has six of them! I only wanted _one_!”

“Like that fucking _matters_?!” Sean cries. “You don’t get to take my stuff, you lying little shit!”

“ _Sean_.” Dad silences his oldest before looking back to Daniel. “We don’t tolerate stealing in this house. Give it back. _Now_.”

Scowling, Daniel digs into his dresser drawer. He offers Sean the black ring with an upturned palm and downturned gaze. Sean snatches it away from him.

“Alright. That’s settled. As for you—” Dad grips Sean by the forearm and steers him out of Daniel’s room. “You don’t get to just go off on him.”

“He _lied_!”

“He’s a little kid! _You_ gotta be the bigger person.”

Sean twists his arm out of Dad’s grasp. “Yeah. _Right_.”

He slams his bedroom door and throws himself down on the faded mattress. He’s still wearing his stupid Z-Mart uniform, which is nothing at all like Finn’s sharp, studded rings. Sean rolls the black one between his forefinger and thumb, wishing he was with the boy that gave it to him.

*

The day before Thanksgiving, a card arrives from Claire and Stephen. It has a turkey on the cover and a Psalm printed on the inside, but not much else. Just a dumb line about giving thanks in Claire’s neat, tight script.

Daniel’s never met Claire, but he’s come to recognize her handwriting. His face brightens when he sees the envelope.

“To the Diaz Family, from Beaver Creek!” Daniel says, actually jumping with excitement. “It’s Grandma and Grandpa!”

“Dude, calm down. It’s just a card,” Sean says. There’s never anything inside. It’s just… a formality. Just something they do so that Baby Jesus won’t get mad at them or whatever.

“Can I open it?” Daniel asks, and Sean hesitates. Dad always gets weird about Claire’s cards, even though they’re basically nothing. That’s probably why Daniel asked, instead of just tearing into it.

Sean rubs the back of his neck. “I mean… It says ‘to the Diaz family.’ And you’re part of the family. So…”

“ _Yes!_ ”

Daniel rips the envelope. He’s not exactly disappointed by its contents, but the card doesn’t thrill him, either. And when Dad comes home, reads the card, and then slips it into the garbage can, Daniel doesn’t complain.

Dad preps the turkey for tomorrow’s feast. There’s still a lot of work to do, and come the morning, everyone will have a job. Daniel gets to be the official taste-tester. Sean gets to peel potatoes.

“Dad?” Daniel says delicately, still ashamed he was caught stealing last week. “Can we invite Finn?”

Esteban’s hands go still. It only lasts a moment. When he speaks, he has a slight smile, though his eyes focus on his work. “This is family time, _mijo_.”

Daniel looks down. “Oh.”

Thanksgiving is okay. Finn doesn’t text Sean back but Lyla does. She gets blazed with her cousin just like Sean thought she would, and she sends him a ton of hilarious and incoherent messages. Sean starts sleeping in Finn’s old shirt—the one with the skull. If it can’t smell like cornsyrup and dirt, at least it can smell like Sean.

The next day is Black Friday, the busiest and shittiest shopping day of the year. That means Sean has to get up at four in the morning so he clock-in at five. Dad left the keys to his truck on the kitchen counter. Sean guzzles down a cup of coffee and drives to Z-Mart.

The parking lot is crowded and chaotic. It looks like a battlefield; one Sean must cross just to reach a place he doesn’t want to go. The sky is still dark, and the moon is half-full beyond the orange street lights. Metal shopping carts rattle on the blacktop.

It’s just like the night of Cassidy’s birthday party, when she and Finn and Sean raced across the parking lot and howled at the moon. Their last adventure together, before she disappeared forever, without a warning, without a word.

Sean gets back in his car.

He drives all the way down town. Parks next to a rusted red junker and pounds on a familiar door. Finn throws it wide, confused and alarmed.

“Sean?!”

He doesn’t even finish the word before Sean grabs his face and kisses him.

They stumble backwards into Finn’s apartment, mouths moving, hands grasping. Finn kicks the door shut; Sean slams his back against the nearest wall.

“Fuck, sweetie—”

Sean silences him with tongue. Finn moans and opens his mouth wider, letting Sean lick into him.

Even with his eyes closed, Sean can tell that this place hasn’t changed. The sounds from next door, the feel of crusty carpet beneath his shoes; it’s all so painfully, wonderfully familiar. Fuck, the air even _tastes_ the same, saturated with cigarette smoke and stale pizza. Sean wants to swallow it down and carry it in his lungs, so he can breathe it everywhere he goes.

“You promised,” Sean whispers against Finn’s lips.

“What?”

Sean pulls back. “In my room!”

Finn still doesn’t understand. The shirt twisted through Sean’s fingers is well-worn and familiar; _Misty Mice_ , it says. Sean’s favorite shirt. Was it missing? It must have been, because Finn stole it, and now he’s wearing it as pajamas.

“You _said_ you’d never go anywhere.” A shameful heat builds behind Sean’s eyes. “You fucking _promised_.”

Finn folds his arms around Sean’s back. “I know, baby.”

“You fucking ditching me? Like everyone else?”

“No! _Never_. Shit, I didn’t…” Finn tugs Sean towards the couch. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Sean feels so stupid. So small. He’s wearing his Z-Mart uniform, which would be humiliating enough if it wasn’t five in the morning, and Sean hadn’t banged on Finn’s door like a clingy, desperate girlfriend. Finn should just throw him out. Delete his phone number.

But Finn turns on a light, and settles next to him on the couch. Sean can finally see his face—and the large, purple bruise surrounding his eye.

“Fuck, Finn—”

Sean cups the cheek just below that eye. Finn winces slightly but doesn’t pull away.

“Aww, it ain’t so bad,” he says, trying to laugh. “I’d say it’s downright pretty, compared to what it was.”

“Is this… because of your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, no—that asshole left soon as he had his money.” Finn shrugs, but he doesn’t look half as indifferent as he wants to. “Nah, this is, uh… This is my mess, Sean.”

“What happened?”

“Aww, c’mon, man…” Finn sounds like Daniel, trying to squirm his way out of trouble. “I just… owe money I don’t got. You know how it is.”

“Finn, is this…” Sean licks his lips. “Is this because Dad threw out your stash?”

Finn’s mouth moves wordlessly. Suddenly, Sean can’t look at him.

“Do you… deal weed?”

A shrug. “It pays the bills.”

Fuck.

Sean feels even smaller and stupider than before. He really should have figured that out before now. He never heard Finn mention a job, never wondered how he paid for his apartment, or scored all his beer and smokes.

“Sean, listen.” Finn shifts his weight, and the couch creaks in protest. “I didn’t want Daniel seein’ me all fucked up. An’ I didn’t want you comin’ here, gettin’ mixed up with my shit.”

“I’m not a little kid,” Sean says, though those words sound infinitely childish. Finn’s lips curve into a sad smile.

“I know, sweetie.”

“So… quit cockblocking me,” Sean says, taking Finn’s face between both hands. Finn actually laughs—a soft, genuine sound of relief.

“Okay. Okay, you win.”

*

Sean loses his job at Z-Mart. It was kind of bound to happen, after ditching on Black Friday. He doesn’t even try to make an excuse. He just shakes his boss’ hand. Thanks for the opportunity.

He still acts like he has a job, though. Three times a week, he puts on his Z-Mart uniform and nametag, and rides the Number 30 bus to Finn’s apartment. There, Sean spends a few stolen hours away from Dad and Daniel, away from track and homework and Pre-Calc. It’s a lot like the old days, back when Sean and Finn first met. Sneaking around. Hiding. Laying on the floor, laughing and getting high.

Sean spends most of those afternoons on Finn’s couch, just like he did back then. Except instead of playing video games, Finn bounces in his lap, head rolled back and dick hard in Sean’s hand.

“Fuck, sweetie— _yeah_ —git’in there—”

Finn is incoherent with bliss, grinding hard against Sean’s hips. He moans shamelessly, eyes closed, mouth hanging open but also somehow smiling. His ass clenches around Sean’s dick, so tight and so _fucking_ good that Sean grips him by the hips and thrusts upwards.

“ _Shit!_ ”

Finn’s head drops to his chest, and when blue bangs brush across his forehead, Sean is overcome with the need to surge forward, to pin Finn on his back and _slam_ into him. Finn laughs with delight and then wails with pleasure, as Sean fucks him as hard as he can, as deep as Finn will take.

“Come home with me,” Sean whispers afterward, when their bodies form a heap on the couch cushions just like their clothes on the floor, and Sean can’t tell which shirt is his or whose heartbeat belongs to whom.

He hasn’t invited Finn to his house in several weeks. Finn’s eye is back to normal, but he’s still in deep shit with his supplier; so much, in fact, that Sean actually caught a glimpse of the guy who gave Finn the bruise, stalking around the apartment complex like a bald, sour-faced Bigfoot. Finn was shaking when Sean finally came to his door, though he tried to hide it, and suddenly all Sean wanted to do was take Finn home and show him the Christmas tree Daniel picked out, and the angel on top that Sean broke when he was eight, but Dad glued back together…

“Come _home_ ,” Sean says again. Finn’s thumb brushes back and forth across his cheek.

“Can’t, baby.”

“Bullshit.”

He can, if he wants to. He can crawl through Sean’s window and sleep on Sean’s floor and wear Sean’s clothes. They’ll play with Daniel and make out on the porch and eat soup with real vegetables…

“Sean.” Finn won’t speak until Sean meets his eye. “It was just a story.”

Rats don’t live in wolf dens. They live in holes with cracked walls and crusty carpets, and garbage strewn on the floor.

So, Sean gets on the bus and walks through the front door by himself. And when he joins Dad and Daniel for dinner, the fourth stool is still empty, like it’s always been. Like it’ll always be.

*

Finally, fucking _finally_ —the last day of school before Christmas break.

No more work. No more school, or sports. Just two weeks to hang out and sneak around. If Sean plays it right, he can probably spend at least half of that time underneath Finn.

Today, though, he has to walk home with Daniel, and babysit him afterwards because Dad has to work late. Lyla’s cool about it. Instead of taking their usual bus, she walks with Sean to the elementary school, and then with Sean and Daniel all the way to their house.

Daniel gets super excited to check the mail, because he still isn’t over that one time Santa wrote back to him. Dad patiently explained that Santa is very busy, and he might not do it _every_ year, but Daniel runs to the mailbox anyway.

Sean and Lyla set up on the porch. Since Dad isn’t home to bust them and Daniel wouldn’t dare tattle on Lyla, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes. They talk about their holiday plans (no Grand-Momster this time) as Daniel sulks into the house, arms wound tight around his chest. Santa must not have written back.

“Poor little guy!” Lyla says, making Sean roll his eyes. “What did you get him for Christmas?”

“Haven’t yet,” Sean shrugs. “Might just draw him something.”

“Don’t be a dick! Get your baby brother a real present.”

Sean wonders if he should tell her that he lost his job at Z-Mart. Lyla wouldn’t judge him—she might even try to help him. He can’t keep up the ruse forever, and it’s going to _suck_ when Dad finds out, but for some reason, Sean remains silent.

When her cigarette is gone, Lyla stands up and stretches. She needs to head home before the Momster comes looking. She gives Sean a loose hug, and Sean watches her disappear around the fence before heading inside.

He expects to find Daniel glued to his PlayBox. Instead, the house is quiet. Daniel’s door, shut tight.

“Daniel?”

No reply. No sound at all.

Ugh. Not more hide-and-seek.

“What’s up man?” Sean says, pushing into Daniel’s room. The boy is there, huddled in the fort beneath his bunkbed. It takes Sean a moment to realize that he’s crying.

Not whining. Not wailing or whimpering, in that fake baby-brother way. But really crying, red-eyed and ashamed.

“Whoa, hey…” Sean crawls into the fort. “What happened?”

Daniel inhales. His whole body shudders with effort. “Grandma said…”

What?

Claire?

Several sheets of paper tremble in Daniel’s hand. Sean snatches them up.

The first thing he reads is the envelope. He recognizes the handwriting at once—and the street number in Oregon. But this letter isn’t addressed to The Diaz Family. It’s addressed to Esteban. This letter was meant for Dad—Daniel wasn’t supposed to see it.

Fuck, is this Sean’s fault? Telling Daniel it was okay to open that stupid card…

Sean doesn’t really want to read Claire’s words; it feels like letting her win. Like she’ll know, somehow, and she’ll think that he _cares_ , which isn’t true. He’s fine without Karen, and extra fine without the parents that raised her.

But he needs to know what made Daniel so upset.

 _It can’t be that bad_ , Sean thinks.

It’s actually worse.

Sean is amazed by how much emotion Claire can express with such neat, controlled words. They’re just lines, just strokes of the pen, but like the drawings in Sean’s sketchbook, Claire captured something grander than ink, something bigger than letters on a page. She moved her pen with such purpose, Sean can actually _feel_ her holding this exact same sheet of paper, folding it in half and sending it far away.

She wants to see her grandsons. Extends yet another invitation—yet _another?_ —to celebrate Christmas with them. Offers to pay for the trip. Promises homecooked meals and soft beds. Asks for a photograph; she would dearly love to know what Daniel looks like.

“Dad always said… she didn’t care…” Daniel whispers.

Sean is shaking, just like Daniel. He must be sad, mourning the grandparents he should have had, _could_ have had—

No.

No, Sean isn’t sad.

He’s _livid_.

This letter—this isn’t _new_. Claire’s been reaching out for years, trying to get to know them, to take care of them. But Dad pushed her away—Dad pushed her away and _lied about it_. Dad said that she didn’t care, and Sean believed him, because if his own mother couldn’t love him, why should Claire give damn?

Daniel’s sobbing. Daniel, who has no friends at school; who misses Finn so much he broke into Sean’s room for a single ring. Daniel, who never knew his mother, but _could have known_ his grandmother, if not for Esteban’s intervention.

A part of Sean wants to comfort the small, sobbing boy. A large part, in fact.

But an even bigger part of him wants to hurt his dad.

Sean pulls Daniel into his side, tucking him under one arm. With the other, Sean digs for his phone.

“Hey, sweetie! Done babysitting?”

Daniel brightens at the sound of Finn’s voice, muffled against Sean’s ear.

“Actually, no,” Sean says. “But… I have this kinda… crazy idea.”

“Shit, you know that’s my fav’rite kind!”

*

Beaver Creek is only four hours away by car. Or six, in Finn’s busted piece of shit.

“It’s better than walking,” Sean grins. “… _barely_.”

Daniel laughs at that, but the car must not have liked it, because at that exact moment the engine lets out a groan.

“No, honey, he didn’t mean it!” Finn wails, but it doesn’t help. His car dies just short of a large, wooden sign.

_BEAVER CREEK  
WELCOMES YOU_

Well… that’s nice.

It’s dark and snowing. Finn lifts the hood of his car and white steam billows into the air.

“Fuck…”

“Can you fix it?” Sean asks.

“Not any time soon.”

Daniel whimpers. All three of them shiver on the side of road, ankle-deep in snow.

Sean pulls out his phone. There’s a million messages from Dad, and just as many missed calls. Dad must have messaged Lyla, because she’s worried, too. And Coach Aaron. And Eric. And Sean’s old boss at Z-Mart. _Shit_ …

“Claire’s house isn’t too far,” Sean says. Thank god for GPS. Sean isn’t sure he could read a map on his own. “Maybe… about an hour on foot?”

“We’re _walking_?” Daniel cries. Finn claps his hands together.

“Fuck yeah! It’ll be an adventure! C’mon little man, show me your adventure face!”

“My what?”

“Adventure face!” Finn insists. His expression slides into something determined and fierce. Sean can’t help but laugh—and Daniel loosens, too.

“It’s like a comic!” Daniel says. “About _us_!”

“Shit, I’d read that!”

They grab their stuff—just three backpacks full of clothes, toys, snacks and cigarettes. Finn locks his car, though Sean’s pretty sure he could leave the keys in the ignition and find the car exactly where he parked it.

A train whistles somewhere in the distance. Snow piles up on their shoulders. At least they made it to town; there are plenty street lamps to light their way.

Daniel struggles, though. He trails behind Sean and Finn, following in their literal footsteps. He has to stretch his legs to match their long strides, and falls at least once.

“Here, _enano_ ,” Sean says, kneeling down. He pats his own shoulders. “Climb on up.”

“What—really?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Maybe he kind of feels bad for what happened with the ring. _Maybe_.

Daniel climbs over Sean’s backpack and sits on his shoulders. Finn helps. When Sean stands up, Daniel’s head is at least seven feet in the air. Taller than anyone. Taller than Dad.

Finally, they turn onto a dark, empty road. They’re in real country now; the road isn’t even paved. But there’s enough light from all the Christmas decorations that they can pick out the mailbox whose address Daniel memorized long ago.

“We’re here! This is the one!” he cries, exhausted but exhilarated. He’s never walked so far in his entire life, even if he spent half of it being carried. “Right, Sean?”

Sean swallows, taking in the red house. It’s… entirely different, but exactly the same. “Yeah, it… looks right.”

Daniel sprints for the door, but Sean hangs back. Finn places a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I’m cool. It’s just… been a while.”

Daniel aggressively rings the doorbell, smashing it over and over again. Sean pulls his hand away and brushes the snow out of his hair. Claire won’t like it if they drip all over her floor, like that time Sean brought a snowball into the house…

“Yes, we hear you!” a voice calls from behind the door. There’s the sound of heavy lock moving aside, and the wreath on the door jangles and—

A woman with short, white hair and thick glasses stares out at them, utterly bewildered. The barest hint of recognition flits across her face. “Sean?”

“Hey, Claire…”

“Oh my…” Claire places a hand over her heart. “Wait, is this—are you Daniel?”

“Hi Grandma!” Daniel says, bouncing in place. Sean’s surprised he doesn’t throw himself into her arms.

“Stephen!” Claire calls into the house. “Come see who’s here! Oh, come in, come in!”

She steps aside, motioning for them to enter. The hand over her heart moves over her lips.

“I didn’t know you were coming. Esteban never—oh, hello.”

Claire notices Finn at last. Her eyes snap from ripped jeans to pierced nose to blue hair.

“Grannie, it’s me!” Finn cries, opening his arms for a hug Claire doesn’t give. “It’s ol’ Finn! Remember?”

“Wh-What?”

“Dude, stop it,” Sean says with a shove.

A fifth person descends the staircase, entering the foyer. A man Claire’s age, with a balding head and much smaller glasses.

“What’s going on down here?” he demands.

“Stephen, look who it is! Sean and Daniel, and, um….”

Sean speaks up before Finn’s joke gets out of hand. “This is Finn. My, uh—my friend from school. He drove us here.”

“Oh!” Claire brightens a little, and makes an effort to meet Finn’s eye. “Do you have family out here, too?”

“Nah, I just like playin’ taxi. It’s my callin’ in life, y’know?”

Claire blinks, unable to tell if he’s joking or not. Once more, Sean intervenes.

“He was just going to drop us off, but his car broke down. We had to walk the last couple of miles.”

“In the dark!” Daniel brags. He’s so proud of himself, but Claire’s brow creases.

“Oh, well, of course you’re very welcome to stay with us… Finn.” She nods at him, before turning back to her grandsons. “Where’s your father?”

Silence. Sean can feel Daniel looking at him, shifting all the blame onto his big brother.

“Is he coming?” Stephen prompts.

“No…” Sean says, staring at Claire’s slippers. He suddenly remembers running through her house with his shoes on, and how long it took her to scrub the mud off the floor. “Dad, um… Dad didn’t want us to come. So, we kind of… left… without telling him.”

What did Esteban do when he got home, and no one was there? Was it just like when Karen left?

Sean can’t decide how that makes him feel.

“Oh, _Sean_ ,” Claire exhales. _Not mad, just disappointed._

“Nothing to do about it now,” says Stephen. “Why don’t you come sit?”

Claire makes hot cocoa. _Real_ cocoa, not that powdered stuff from a packet, covered in whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Finn takes a sip and cries, “Hot _dayum_!”

Claire’s stare is more punishing than any swear jar.

Stephen calls Esteban. Sean, Finn and Daniel all stare into their mugs.  
  
“Yes, yes, they’re both here,” Stephen says, pacing across the living room. “It seems they got a ride with their friend. No—we didn’t—Claire wouldn’t—”

Sean can hear Esteban shouting through the phone. He can’t make out any of the words, but he can imagine Dad’s exact face.

“Now, hold on, that’s not fair—” Stephen says. He raises a hand towards Claire and then turns from the room, disappearing into his office and shutting the door.

“It’ll sort itself out,” Claire whispers, placing a hand atop Daniel’s head. He smiles at her, and she takes the seat next to his.

“Is it true… that you’ve always wanted to meet us?” he asks.

“Yes,” Claire sighs. It sounds like a relief, like something she’s waited a long time to say. “But your father was… adamant, and we didn’t want to… overstep any bounds.”

“What does that mean?” Daniel frowns.

“It means Dad told her to stop calling,” says Sean.

“Well, I wouldn’t…” Claire hesitates. “What I mean is, it must have been very difficult for your father, figuring out how to… be a single parent. Esteban’s always been his own person. He likes to do things… his own way.”

Sean scoffs. “Yeah. I know.”

Claire reaches for Sean’s hand. He wants to pull away, but doesn’t. None of this is her fault.

“I don’t approve of running away, but… I’m just so glad you came. Now we can finally get to know each other.”

“What was my mom like?” asks Daniel.

Sean shoots him a glare as sharp as daggers. Finn looks at the ceiling.

“You know…” Claire says carefully. “I don’t really want to talk about… the past. I’m much more interested in you boys! What are your hobbies? Your interests?”

Daniel clearly wants to press her about Karen, but Finn speaks up at last.

“You know Daniel here is a Minecraft _champion_?”

“Oh! What are mind crafts?”

Several minutes and mugs of cocoa later, Stephen returns to the kitchen. His hand is clamped over the phone, to prevent Esteban from hearing what they say.

“Sean? Your father wants to talk to you.”

Sean shakes his head. No fucking way.

Stephen hesitates, then brings the phone to his ear. “Esteban? I’m sorry, he’s already gone to bed. In the morning I can—okay. Yes. Alright. Goodnight.”

He hangs up with a heavy sigh. “Well… that was… something.”

“Is Dad coming to get us?” Daniel pouts.

“No. He’s agreed to let you stay for the week. He’ll come pick you up before Christmas Eve.”

Daniel pumps his fist. “ _Yes!_ ”

“Well then—” Claire eases out of her seat. “I should make up the guest room.”

*

Sean sleeps in late the next day. He wakes up and finds Daniel’s side of the bed empty; so is Finn’s pile of blankets on the floor. He can hear laughter, and the whistle of a miniature train—Stephen’s favorite hobby. Not as cool as a PlayBox, but still kind of dope.

Sean rolls over and reaches for his phone. He ignores the messages from Dad, but gets back to Lyla and Eric. Tells them he’s fine, but he’ll be out of town for the holidays.

Eric’s totally cool with that explanation, but Lyla demands more. Flat on his back and phone hovering above his face, Sean tells her about Claire’s letter, and how he and Daniel and Finn ran off to find the grandparents Esteban never wanted them to meet.

 _Shit_ , Lyla replies _. Wonder why he cut them off?_

 _Because he can’t stand anything he can’t fix?!_ Sean types, thinking of the way Dad looks at Finn, like he’s a broken car to just ditch on the side of the road.

He deletes that message though. Instead, he sends: _I dunno. They’re pretty cool tho_.

Claire makes a really big breakfast. Finn is once again astounded—apparently, he’s never seen a waffle iron.

“I always wondered how they got them holes in there!”

Claire laughs, but it’s not a completely joyful sound. She looks at Finn in a way very similar to Esteban; not like she wants to fix him, but like he’s a stray dog she wants to scrub up and stuff in a sweater.

“Well, it’s wonderful to have people to cook for again,” she says. “We’ll have to make a pizza one of these nights.”

“Hells yeah!” says Finn. Claire’s mouth twitches, but the swear isn’t severe enough to warrant comment.

“It must be your favorite food.”

“Yeah?”

Claire gestures at his knuckles. _FREE PIZA_.

Sean _chokes_.

“Uh—yeah!” Finn says, a huge grin lighting his face. “I’m very passion’it ‘bout… _pizza_.”

Sean covers his mouth with a napkin, trying not to actually _die_. Daniel can tell that he’s missing a joke, and he doesn’t like it. He changes the subject.

“Grandma, what’s in the locked room upstairs?”

“Just some old junk,” Claire says too quickly. She settles into a chair and begins writing on a notepad; some sort of grocery list, Sean thinks.

“Was that my mom’s room?”

“ _Daniel_ ,” Sean hisses.

“It was,” Claire replies, her mouth thin. “A _very_ long time ago. It’s just storage now. Nothing for you to worry about.”

There’s a pause. Daniel nods like he understands, but he can’t help but add: “Then why is it locked?”

“Because it’s not safe in there!” Claire insists.

Silence settles around them once more. The only sounds come from the clinking forks and Claire’s moving pen.

“What’chu wanna do today, little man?” Finn asks.

“I dunno,” Daniel shrugs. “Grandma doesn’t have a PlayBox.”

“Aww, we don’t need that shit to have fun!”

“ _Language_ ,” Claire remarks. Finn shoots a grin at Sean.

*

Claire’s grocery list turns out to be a list of rules and chores. The chores are easy—just little shit, like keeping their clothes off the floor and remembering to put dishes in the sink. But even that turns out to be too much for Finn, who spills orange juice on the floor and cleans it up with a swipe of his foot. Claire almost falls over from horror.

The rules are bit harder. Claire has a certain way of doing everything, and she expects everyone else to fall in line. She isn’t exactly strict about it, but she is quick to catch a mistake, and even quicker to comment on it. She’s like a needle, always poised, small but sharply felt.

Stephen is more relaxed. Maybe even a little… detached? He’s friendly, and he’s great with Daniel, but he doesn’t really care about what’s going on around him; not the sound of firecrackers going off next door, or broken cabinet wobbling in his office. It’s almost like he’d rather be on one of his trains—like he’d shrink himself down and live in his train set, if he could. Sean remembers being afraid of Stephen when he was little, but looking at him now, Sean can’t remember why.

Most of his memories of this place are like that. They come to Sean in waves, triggered by the smallest things. The sound of Daniel’s feet, running up the stairs. The broken vase in the hallway—Sean remembers the sound it made when it shattered, but he doesn’t remember if Claire was upset or if he helped Stephen fix it.

“Sean? Are you awake?”

Daniel’s voice is soft in the darkness, curled up next to Sean in the guest bed. Finn is on the floor, his breath slow and even enough that he’s probably asleep.

“What’s up, _enano_?”

Daniel hesitates. Sean rolls over to look at him; the red and green Christmas lights strung outside their window makes Daniel’s face just visible.

“What do you think happened to all the pictures of Mom?”

Sean inhales through his nose, fighting down the part of him that always wants to snap when Daniel says the word _mom_.

“I dunno, dude. Claire must’ve… put them away.”

Thank _fuck_. Sean doesn’t want to have to see her face on every wall, graduating high school and… blowing out birthday candles.

Daniel rubs his cheek against his pillow, seeking comfort. “You know those… boxes in the garage at home? With Mom’s name on them?”

Sean grunts.

“I… looked in there… But I couldn’t find any pictures. What did Dad do with them all?”

Something weird twists in Sean. Not pain, exactly, but… discomfort. He’s never looked in those boxes. He didn’t know that… all the photos were gone.

“I guess he threw them out.”

Daniel closes his eyes, his face pinched tight. “That _sucks_ , Sean.”

“Why?” Sean asks, trying not to sound too… judgmental.

“Because… I don’t even know what she looks like!”

Daniel says that a little too loudly, but Finn isn’t disturbed. There’s no sound in the hallway either. In a much lower voice, Daniel says, “I just keeping thinking about how… Grandma didn’t even know what I looked like, either. All she wanted was a picture. And all _I_ want is a picture. But she won’t give me one.”

Sean thinks about this for a long while, fingers curling beneath the pillow.

“Karen… _left us_ , dude. She left Dad. And Claire, and Stephen. Of course they don’t want to see her face anymore.”

“But-“

“Claire _wanted_ us. Karen didn’t. So, going after our grandparents… isn’t the same as going after Karen.”

Daniel quiet. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“Do you understand?” Sean asks.

Daniel rolls over.

“Yeah. I guess.”

*

It’s Sunday now. Exactly one week until Christmas. Dad’s supposed to get here on Friday, and then take them home on Saturday for Christmas Eve. Daniel really wants to stay for Christmas, though, and Sean caught him practicing _Please, Dad, please?_ in the mirror.

“Why don’t you boys go play outside?” Claire suggests, shuffling into the living room. Her face is slightly red from the cold air—she just got back from church with Stephen.

“But you said we’d make cookies!” Daniel whines.

“I’d like to get some cleaning done, first.”

Finn winces at her pointed tone. He made a mess of Claire’s bathroom, refreshing the blue color in his hair. Sean wants to run his fingers through it.

“I bet there’s a ton’a cool shit in the woods out back,” Finn whispers to Daniel. Claire pretends not to hear him, but says the shed is full of old toys. Daniel instantly forgets about the cookies. He actually pushes Sean out of the way to get his coat.

All three of them stumble into the backyard, limbs flailing. Sean scoops up a pile of snow and grinds it into Daniel’s hair. Daniel howls with protest and shoves him away—and a snowball splatters him in the face.

“ _Finn_!” Daniel wails, utterly betrayed.

“It weren’t me!”

Laughter rings through the air. A snowball hits Sean square in the chest. He looks for the source, but finds none.

“There!” Daniel shouts.

He points into the air—no, to a tree. A tree _house_ , in the neighbor’s yard. Daniel sprints towards it. Sean and Finn follow close behind.

A wooden fence separates Claire’s backyard from the neighbors’, but Daniel easily fits through a large hole between the slats. Sean stops just short of it, and squints up at the treehouse. He can see movement, but nothing distinct.

“I got you, I _got_ you!” someone laughs.

“No, you didn’t!” Daniel cries. He’s already halfway up the ladder, and disappearing into the branches.

“Yes, I did! The look on your _face_!”

“Y-You… _surprised_ me! That’s all!”

“Hey, Daniel!” Sean calls up, hands cupped around his mouth. “What did you find?”

Daniel’s face appears over the side of the treehouse, joined by a yellow-haired, blue-eyed boy.

“That’s my brother, Sean. And that’s Finn,” Daniel says importantly, like he’s showing off a new toy, or an extremely rare Munster Fighter card. The boy is clearly impressed.

“Wow…” he whispers. “They look so cool.”

Sean runs a hand across the side of his head, feeling the shaved skin.

“That treehouse is pretty dope!” Finn calls up. The boy smiles even wider than before.

“Thanks! It’s the Flying Fortress!”

“Fuckin’ sweet!”

Sean tries to remember if that treehouse was here before. He doesn’t think so. Claire complained a lot about her neighbor’s dogs back then; they barked at Sean from the other side of this exact same fence.

No dogs now, though. Maybe that neighbor moved away. It’s been a whole decade, after all.

“I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

“Chris.”

“I like your shirt!”

“Oh—thanks! Power Bear is my favorite. _No one_ —”

“ _No one can defeat justice!_ ”

The boys burst into laughter. Finn nudges Sean with his shoulder.

“What?” Sean asks, confused by the gleam in Finn’s eye. Should they tell Daniel to come down?

Finn smiles in a way that makes Sean feel like a little kid. Like he’s Daniel, missing out on a joke.

“Nothin’,” Finn sighs. “That’s just… real nice to see.” He takes Sean’s hand, tugging him away. “C’mon, lesgo for a walk.”

“Uh—okay. If you want.” Sean still doesn’t understand. He waves up at Daniel, who eagerly waves back.

Sean and Finn don’t go very far; just to a gas station down the road. Finn buys a pack of cigarettes while Sean stares at claw machine filled with small, plastic Power Bear toys. They remind Sean that he still hasn’t gotten a Christmas gift for Daniel. He’d probably like a Chibi Power Bear—if claw machines weren’t a total scam.

“Hey, you think your gran’dad would gimme a lift to my car?” Finn asks as they trudge back to Claire’s. It’s not too cold out, but Sean can definitely feel where there is and isn’t hair on top his head.

“Mm… probably? My dad has a tow truck, though. We can ask him to pick it up.”

“Well, that’s the thing…” Finn shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I was thinkin’a… bailin’… ‘fore your dad gets here.”

“Dude, come on. Daniel would be bummed.”

“Yeah. _Daniel_ would be bummed.”

Finn grins. Sean does, too.

“Okay, shut up.” He doesn’t even know why he tries that shit anymore. “But I’m serious. Don’t bail on us right before Christmas. That would… _suck_.”

Finn sighs, but his smile doesn’t waver. “Yeah… alright.”

*

Sean doesn’t see Chris and Daniel again until the afternoon. They burst through the back door, trailing slush and snow across Claire’s freshly cleaned floor. She doesn’t even bother to comment.

“Chris!” she says instead. “How nice to see you. Is everything okay?”

“We’re great!”

“And your arm?”

She gestures to Chris’ left; Sean notices a white cast wrapped around his wrist.

“Oh… It’s fine. Thanks, Claire.”

“I hope you’ve been staying out of that treehouse.”

Chris shuffles. “Daniel said you were making gingerbread!”

“Can Chris help, Grandma?” Daniel asks.

“Oh, dears, I haven’t even started the dough. It needs to chill for a few hours.”

Daniel pouts, but Chris pulls his attention to the living room.

“Cool Christmas tree! Did you decorate it?”

“Nah, it was already up when we got here,” Daniel shrugs.

“Bummer. At least you have one, though.”

Claire turns at that. “You don’t have a Christmas tree, Chris?”

Chris bites his lip. He suddenly looks worried, like he said something he shouldn’t. “Well… Dad and I were going to get one last week, but… you know.”

His right hand brushes over the cast, and Claire gets that look again, the one she gave Finn when they first arrived. Like she wants to save him, somehow. A kitten stuck in a tree.

“Why don’t…” Claire pauses, thinking. “Why don’t we all go down to the Christmas market? We can look around… and pick out a tree for you.”

Chris’ mouth falls open. “You mean it, Claire?”

“If it’s alright with your father.”

Chris and Daniel jump with excitement. Sean snorts. Those two are dangerously cute together. They could probably convince Claire to buy them a whole forest, if they wanted.

Claire makes the call. It goes unanswered, but she tries again. “Hello, Charles? This is Claire from next door. I—what? Oh no, this isn’t about any of that...”

Claire turns from the room, just like Stephen did when he was on the phone with Esteban.

“You see, my grandsons have come to visit, and they’ve really hit it off with Chris…”

*

Stephen drives them. There’s not enough room in his car for everyone, so Claire stays behind to work on the cookie dough. Sean sits in the front; Chris, Finn and Daniel squeeze into the back. They look really squashed, side-by-side, but they don’t seem to mind.

“Did you draw these?” Chris asks, fascinated by Finn’s tattoos.

“Nah. Got most of ‘em from a friend.”

Sean looks at his hands, remembering guitar strings and purple braids. Arms covered in tattoos.

 _This is me_ , Cassidy said. _My whole life. Everythin’ that matters_.

Ink. Little pictures etched into her skin. That’s all that ever mattered to her—the memories, not the people that gave them to her, or anyone she left behind.

The Christmas market is small and tacky, little more than a pile of dying pine trees in the middle of a parking lot. Chris and Daniel are immediately enraptured, though, darting between the branches and shrieking about trolls.

Stephen gets distracted by some of his old firefighter buddies. They wave him over and soon Stephen is engrossed in deep conversation—but not before grasping Sean by the shoulders.

“ _This_ —” he says importantly, his hands so strong that Sean suddenly feels six-years-old again, “is my grandson, Sean.”

He sounds… _proud_. Like, really fucking proud. Sean has no idea why.

It feels pretty cool, though.

The old firefighters shake his hand. One of them remembers Sean from when he was little. And he remembers Esteban, too.

“Your son-in-law staying for the holidays?”

“No… We’re still…” Stephen hesitates, then pats Sean’s shoulders. “We’re still mending that fence.”

Sean thinks of the hole that Daniel climbed through. Wonders how long it’s been there.

He enters the so-called forest. Finn jumps out from behind the pine trees. Sean jolts, startled—but before he can do anything else, Finn embraces him, pinning Sean’s arms to his sides.

“Now!” Finn cries.

 _What_ —?!

Chris and Daniel spring out of nowhere, pelting Sean and Finn with wet snowballs. Sean twists away—eventually.

“Fucking traitor!” he cries, shoving Finn but smiling. Snow drips from his hair. Daniel clutches at Chris, laughing so hard he can’t breathe—Chris clutches him right back.

“Hey! No screwin’ around!” cries a guy on the other side of the market. He watches them with arms crossed, standing near a bunch of stalls with wooden toys and hot cider for sale.

Daniel and Chris disappear into the trees once more. Finn chases after them, but Sean walks towards the stalls. Maybe he can find a gift for Daniel, even if it’s just a crappy, homemade toy.

His shoes squish in the wet snow as he crosses the market—and then he hears it.

Guitar strings, low and sweet.

A voice, lower and sweeter still.

Cassidy sits on the ground, perched atop the backpack she never brought to school, strumming the guitar she carried everywhere. She sings about puzzle pieces and open hearts; roads traveled in the dark.

And Sean is…

Sean doesn’t know what he is.

But he listens to the entire song, and when it’s done, Sean’s eyelashes are as damp as his hair.

She strums the last note—the guitar strings vibrate beneath her fingertips. Cassidy sighs, content, and looks up.

“…Sean?”

She stares at him, disbelieving, and Sean can’t remember how to move, or speak, or _feel_.

Cassidy sets her guitar aside. Leans forward on her knees. “What’re… you doin’ out here?”

“Visiting… grandparents,” he says, still completely, dizzyingly numb.

“Shit, really? Dayum… My City Boy got country roots after all.”

She smiles, revealing the gap between her front teeth, and suddenly—suddenly, Sean remembers how to feel.

And it’s too fucking much.

There was time, not very long ago, when Cassidy was as dear to him as Finn. Back then, Sean couldn’t even have imagined Finn without Cassidy, or Cassidy without Finn, because they were a pair, a matched set—one hand, grasping Sean’s left while another took his right. And when Cassidy left, when she dropped his hand, Sean was thrown so horribly off-balance that he tumbled to the ground and shattered into pieces.

He loved her. Or—he _could have_ loved her. If she hadn’t run. If she’d let her vines wrap around him, instead of uprooting herself painfully from his heart.

Sean’s hand curls into a fist. “You fucking… You fucking _left us_ , Cass.”

“…yeah.”

“That was… a real _shitty_ thing to do,” Sean says, his voice no louder than Cassidy’s gentle song.

“I know.”

Sean nods, staring at the ground. A paper plate lays at Cassidy’s feet, filled with coins and a single dollar bill. Her backpack is held together with duct tape; her jeans, haphazardly stitched.

Well, at least she fucking _knows_.

“Did you even…” Sean hates the way his voice wavers, “… _think_ … about what you were leaving behind?”

Cassidy looks down, too. “Every fuckin’ day.”

She traces the back of her hand. There’s a new tattoo there; two circles, barely overlapping. One has a large letter _N_ pointing north; the other, a large letter _S_ pointing south.

Sean stares at that _S_. He really… really doesn’t know how to feel about it.

A voice, behind them.

“C-Cassidy?” Then, louder: “ _Cassidy?!_ ”

She barely has time to get to her feet before Finn grasps her face and crushes their foreheads together.

“Cass! You’re okay!”

“’Course I am!” she laughs, clinging tight to his upper arms. “I could always take care’a myself!”

“Shit, don’t I know it! C’mere—”

Finn covers her face in kisses, smashing his lips against her forehead and nose and cheeks. Cassidy laughs again and staggers backward, overwhelmed by so much affection. Finn can’t let go of her, though. He cards his fingers through her purple hair, still cropped short.

“I was so worried, Cass,” Finn says, voice tight.

“I know.”

“You could’a called. Left a note. Fuck, _anythin’_ just to tell me you were safe.”

“I know.”

Shit. She sounds just like Sean, after he stayed out all night and didn’t call his Dad.

How he’ll probably sound again, when Dad comes to pick them up.

“ _Shit_ , it’s good’ta see you,” Finn says. “Where the fuck you been, Cass?”

“Dayum… All over!” Cassidy shrugs. “Hoppin’ trains, roamin’ here an’ there… Meetin’ nice folk, some not-so-nice folk… But it’s good! I finally feel alive, yuh’know?”

Sean… tries to understand. He remembers how miserable Cassidy was at school—compares it to how happy she seems now. Maybe… Maybe that school building felt to her the way Esteban’s house used to feel to Sean, and the road is… like Eric’s cabin. What mattress could compare to soft soil and warm leaves?

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout hittin’ up California,” Cassidy says, smiling at Finn in a way that Sean doesn’t like. “Check out the pot farms down there? Find work, see the ocean. You should come with me!”

She isn’t asking both of them. Only Finn.

She wants Finn to ditch Sean—just like that.

“Nah, baby girl,” Finn says, taking a step backwards.

“C’mon, Finn! Weed farm is, like… your dream job! You’d be so good at it!”

“Dealin’ ain’t the same as growin’.”

“Aw, you’d figure it out! You’re smart. And it’d be cool to… have someone with me.”

He said _no_. Twice! How many times does she have to fucking hear it?

Finn rubs the back of his neck. “It… _would_ be cool, Cass. But I... got too much goin’ on. Promises to keep.”

Sean wants to say… _something_. He isn’t sure what, but he can’t just stay silent, he has to… he needs to…

Shit, Cassidy doesn’t even _see_ him. Sean can’t fucking stand it.

“Sean! Finn! What’re you doing?”

Daniel runs up between them, grabbing Sean in one hand and Finn in the other.

“Grandpa needs help tying the tree to his car! It looks _so_ cool—Chris and I picked out the best one!”

“Wait, is this Daniel?” Cassidy grins. “Are you Daniel?”

“Uh—yeah. That’s me. Who’re you?”

“She’s nobody, _enano_ ,” Sean interrupts. He grips Daniel by the shoulders and steers her away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Finn lingers behind. The tree is already lashed to Stephen’s car by the time he joins them. Daniel starts bugging him about some game they started on the lot—he’s clearly forgotten about the girl with purple hair.

Sean only wishes he could.

*

Finn and Sean carry the tree to Chris’ house. Stephen goes back to his trains.

Inside, Chris’ dad—Charles—helps them set it up. He’s a nice enough guy. He goes along with Chris’ games and laughs when Daniel pretends to be a _tree monster_.

Finn is quiet, though. Probably still thinking about Cassidy. His eyes roam slowly over Chris’ small house; the broken table in the living room; the takeout containers and empty beers cans on the kitchen counter; Chris, carrying a load of laundry and throwing it in the wash.

Charles lets out a sudden, playful roar—Finn jolts.

“Tree monsters are no match for the _Wood Carver_!” Charles says. Chris and Daniel shriek with delight as he chases them around the Christmas tree.

“Thank your grandparents for me, will you?” he asks, when it’s time for Finn, Sean and Daniel to head back for dinner. “The tree… means a lot to Chris. To both of us.”

“Sure,” Sean says. He can’t help but feel bad for Charles. Sean doesn’t know why Chris’ mother isn’t around, but he remembers what it was like to be Chris’ age and suddenly have to learn to do laundry.

“It’s was nice meeting you,” Charles says. Daniel is hugging Chris goodbye; Finn waits at the bottom of the porch with his hands in his pockets. Charles speaks a little louder, clearly addressing him. “It was nice to meet _all_ of you.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, watching snow fall to the ground.

After dinner, while everyone else watches television, Finn goes outside for a cigarette. He’s out there long enough that Sean pulls on his coat.

“Sean, honey, please tell me you don’t smoke!” says Claire.

“Only when Dad’s not looking,” Daniel smirks.

“No worries,” Sean says. “I’m just going to check on him.”

Finn’s sitting on the ground, eyes fixed on the treehouse. It’s dark, and still snowing pretty hard; the snowfall looks kind of mysterious in the porch light.

“Did any’a that shit seem weird to you?” Finn asks, as Sean clears a spot for himself.

“Only the whole fucking thing,” Sean replies. “I can’t believe she wanted you to just… leave with her.”

“What?”

Finn looks at Sean, brow creased in confusion. He searches Sean’s face for a long moment, then says, “Shit, not _Cassidy_. Chris’ house! Chris’ fuckin’ dad!”

Finn motions wildly towards the fence. “You tellin’ me _none’a_ that seemed weird?”

Sean reels. How can they be talking about Charles when Cassidy just came back into their lives?!

“I dunno, dude! He seemed like a… a pretty chill guy.”

Finn drags on his cigarette. Sean shrugs.

“I thought it was cool that he played with Daniel. Not even my dad runs around like that anymore.”

“ _Fuck_ , Sean,” Finn says, staring hard at the treehouse. “You think my dad was an asshole all the time?”

What?

“Laughin’, playin’…. Pretendin’ everythin’s cool? That’s how they get you. That’s how they _fuckin’_ get you.”

Shit, he’s… spiraling. Falling into a hole Sean can’t see, pursued by monsters Sean can’t fight.

“Finn…” Sean drapes an arm over his shoulder. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”

Finn takes a moment to order his thoughts, rubbing at the cigarette between his fingers.

“My dad, y’know… He was unbelievably fuckin’ cool. Most’a the time. That’s why… when he got _shitty_ … I didn’t say anythin’. ‘Cause I loved ‘im, an’… I wanted’a protect him. An’ for fuckin’ _what_? ‘Cause he chased me ‘round the Christmas tree? _Shit_.”

Yeah.

 _Shit_.

“How you think Chris broke his arm, Sean?”

“I… thought he fell out of his tree,” Sean says, though that seems stupid now.

Finn takes another drag. “I hope you’re right.”

“Finn… maybe we should talk to Claire and Stephen.”

“Maybe.” Finn rolls his shoulders under Sean’s arm. “S’not like I got proof. Just… a feelin’.”

Sean tries to imagine how that conversation would go. Thinks about all the broken things Stephen never wants to fix. He would say it’s none of their business, but Claire…

“Claire might listen,” Sean says. Or, it might just be another door she doesn’t want to open, a conversation she doesn’t want to have.

Finn shrugs again. “I don’t wanna say anythin’ ‘til I’m sure. I know I get… weird… ‘bout dads.” He rubs at his nose. “Shit, I get these thoughts ‘bout _your_ dad sometimes, and he’s the coolest guy in the world.”

Sean sighs. His breath becomes a white cloud. “Yeah… Esteban isn’t perfect, but he would never… hurt us… the way your dad did.”

“That must be real cool; knowin’ your dad’ll never hurt you.”

They’re silent for a while, just watching the snow fall. Finn seems calmer now, but something still scratches at Sean’s mind.

“Finn?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“How can you just… _forgive_ Cassidy like that?”

When Finn doesn’t answer right away, Sean adds: “Isn’t that what you did with your dad? He showed up at your door and you just… forgave him. Let him walk right in.”

And then he hurt Finn again and left, like he always does.

“Nah, Sean, that’s just it. It’s ‘cause’a my dad that I _can_ forgive Cassidy.”

Sean doesn’t understand.

“I kept tryna… cling to my dad, y’know? Or at least, the idea of ‘im. When I let ‘im in the door, I was thinkin’ ‘bout… both’a us, fixin’ up my car. Goin’ on fishin’ trips. All that father-son bullshit.”

Finn snuffs out his cigarette. It hisses against the snow.

“But I let that go. And now he can’t… _hurt me_ anymore, Sean. It’s done. The door’s closed.” Finn smiles, staring out into the darkness. “That’s what I did with Cass. I wished ‘er well, and let ‘er go.”

And now she can’t hurt him.

“I geddit, though…” Finn says carefully, turning to face Sean. “If you ain’t there yet.”

Sean exhales. He lets his head fall forward, resting his brow against Finn’s.

“Someday… I’d like to be.”

*

Sean likes to sleep late, when he can. When there’s no work or school, or anywhere else to be. He likes to lay in bed with his headphones in and just let himself drift in and out of consciousness, music drifting through his mind like butterflies.

Finn’s kisses are better, though.

Those lips have become his alarm clock, ever since Chris threw that snowball. Daniel’s out of bed at sunrise, and in Chris’ treehouse not long after. Sean rolls back over and lets sleep reclaim him, until Finn’s weight settles on his chest. A soft hum opens Sean’s eyes; softer lips open his mouth.

“Can’t wait to get’chu home…” Finn whispers, rocking his hips shamelessly. “Let’chu pound my greedy little ass…”

Sean moans into Finn. He can hear Claire downstairs, moving pots and pans in the kitchen. They’d be so _fucked_ if she walked in right now—which only makes this even hotter. His dick stirs beneath the blankets; Finn does the same, above it. They’re wearing each other’s clothes again; the skull and _Misty Mice_ shirts, now pressed together, chest to chest.

“Gonna throw you right on that floor, ride your fuckin’ dick ‘till I can’t _walk_ … Soon as we get home, baby…”

Sean’s heart twinges. _Home_.

Home, the inevitable destination at the end of this train. Finn will crawl back into that hole with garbage on the floor and hunters on the prowl, and Sean won’t be able to visit any more, not now that Dad knows Sean lost his job…

But Finn kisses that thought away, and they spend another morning pressed against each other, kissing slowly and grinding even slower, until Finn shudders above and Sean trembles below, warm release pooling inside his boxers.

Finn cleans them up. They’ll have to do laundry soon. Claire will be delighted.

Sean watches Finn pull on a pair of pants. He digs around in his pockets, retrieving several rings, and then slips them on his fingers. _FREE PIZA_.

It means that he likes sex, no matter who’s offering it. Just like a free slice of pizza.

“Finn?”

A smile. “Yeah, sweetie?”

Sean shifts, still warm and sated against the mattress. “How long have you known… that you like guys?”

“Shit… I dunno,” Finn shrugs. He can tell that answer isn’t good enough, though, and crawls into bed next to Sean. “I been foolin’ ‘round with my foster siblings since… forever.”

“You never had, like… a preference?”

“Nah. Guy, girl… It felt good either way. That's all I cared ‘bout. Feelin’ good.”

Sean _hmm’_ s. Finn is lying so close to him, their noses almost touch. Sean admires how his hair falls across his brow.

“I think it’s different for me,” Sean says, looking more at blue bangs than blue eyes. “I’m not sure what I… I dunno.”

“You ain’t gotta know. Just… like who you like. No big deal.”

Sean half-smiles. _Just roll with it._ That’s what Lyla said.

But he still kind of wishes he knew.

*

“Sean, honey, can you go find your brother? Lunch is almost ready,” Claire says.

Sean sets aside his sketchbook—Finn, one of Claire’s tacky romance novels. As they pull on their coats, Claire adds: “Of course, Chris is welcome to join us!”

This isn’t the first time she’s made that offer. In fact, Chris has eaten almost as many meals at Claire’s table this week as Daniel. Sean wonders how Charles feels about that. Does he think Claire is sweet, or just nosey?

Chris really did fall out of his tree—at least, Sean is pretty sure he did. The ladder leading up into his treehouse has a broken rung, and Claire says she was the one who discovered Chris, face-down on the ground, screaming and crying. That’s enough to put Sean at ease about Charles, and Finn seems satisfied, too—though he’s still a lot more relaxed when Charles isn’t around.

They always use the back door to get to Chris’ house. The hole in the fence is like a secret entrance; Daniel calls it the… Gateway to Fire Castle, or whatever. Something Chris made up. Sean and Finn use it as a shortcut, because it leads directly to the treehouse.

“Shields up!” Finn cries, raising his arms. This is usually when Daniel starts pelting them with snowballs—but today the treehouse is empty.

“They better not be in the woods again,” Sean grumbles. It took forever to find them, last time.

Loud, fervent whispering gives the boys away. They’re out behind Charles’ garage, and Daniel is trying to climb up on Chris’ shoulders.

“What the hell?” Sean says, startling them.

“ _Ahhh!_ ”

“ _Don’t drop me!_ ”

The boys tumble into the snow. A spike of fear pierces Sean’s heart, first for Daniel and then for Chris’ arm, but they’re fine. Laughing, actually.

“We’re trying to get in through the Bandit Tunnel!” Daniel says, pointing up high. Sean follows his gaze and sees a hole near the roof of the garage—but not one big enough for a kid to fit through. A raccoon, maybe.

“That’s not safe, dude. Try to door. Make it a, uh…” Sean shrugs. “Super cool portal, or something.”

Finn is quiet beside him, staring at the hole. He has the contemplative expression that he gets when he stares at an engine, assembling the pieces in his mind.

Daniel rolls back his head, exasperated. “We _tried_ the door. It’s locked.”

“And my dad has the key,” Chris adds, making a defeated gesture towards the house. Finn suddenly moves.

“Shit, like you need a key to open doors?” he says. Chris and Daniel shoot a look at each other before hurrying behind.

By the time Sean circles the garage, Finn is kneeling before the door. He draws the knife from his belt and wedges it into the lock.

“ _Blam_!” Finn cries as the door swings open. Chris and Daniel got fucking nuts, grabbing each other and cheering.

Firecrackers and spray-paint—that’s what they were after. The former is for _their enemies_ and the latter is for decorating their fortress.

“Hang on, I’m not enemy, am I?” Finn says, stretching his mouth in exaggerated worry.

“No way!” says Chris. “You’re part of the Spirit Squad now!”

The fuck is a Spirit Squad?

Daniel tugs at Finn’s coat. “You’re like… our hacker, or something! You know how to open doors and… sneak around! And you _never_ get caught!”

Finn rotates his knife between his fingers. “Dayum, I sound like a pretty cool guy.”

Sean shuffles against the concrete floor, feeling ignored. There’s a lot of old junk in here; cardboard boxes marked _Emily’s Stuff_. Sean tears his eyes away.

“Whadda ‘bout Sean?”

“He’s on the team, too!” Daniel says. “If you can’t open a door, Sean punches it down!”

Sean winces, remembering how he burst into Daniel’s room, furious about a stolen ring.

But Daniel isn’t upset. He looks at Chris with an eager smile. “Sean is super fast _and_ super strong! He _has_ to be on the Spirit Squad!”

“Yeah! Okay!”

Super strong? That’s… new. Sean’s never thought of himself that way. He’s kind of scrawny, actually. At least, compared to like… football players. He’s just a track-and-field nerd.

But then again… Stephen felt so strong, when he gripped Sean’s shoulders, and introduced him to the old firefighters. Maybe that’s how strong Sean felt to Daniel, when Sean picked him up and carried him to Claire’s front door.

“We need a team signal!” Chris says. “Um… I know!”

He crosses his arms into the shape of a _X_. Finn and Daniel immediately imitate him, then all three turn to Sean.

Well. He hadn’t exactly _planned_ on joining a cult today, but… fuck it.

Sean crosses his arms.

“We’re the _real_ Spirit Squad now,” Chris says, eyes shining. “No one’s gonna mess with _us_.”

Sean glances at Finn. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“We should design costumes!”

“Ooh! Sean can help you draw them!” adds Daniel.

“I have facepaint in the bathroom—”

“Hang on,” Sean says. “We have to go in for lunch. Claire said Chris can come, too.”

The boys scramble for the door, still talking in rushed, excited voices.

“We need hero names!” says Daniel. “I wanna be… Super Wolf!”

“That’s so cool! You could have, like, really sharp fangs! And claws!”

“What about you, Finn? What’s you’re super hero name?”

Finn twirls the knife between his fingers before stowing it at his belt, so sharp, so quick.

“We’ll think’a somethin’.”

*

Finn has been fixing things around the house. No one notices until he asks for help with the wobbly cabinet in Stephen’s office.

“Yeah, I just need someone to hold it while I fix the leg,” he says. Claire’s eyebrows shoot upward.

“Are you the one who fixed my kitchen? And the drawer in the bathroom?”

Finn rubs at his neck. “It weren’t nothin’. Call it ‘room an’ board.’”

“And here I’ve been giving Stephen all the credit!” Claire laughs. Stephen looks up from his newspaper.

“What’s this now?” he says, like he’s only just realized that there are other people in the room.

“I’ll _tell you_ what’s happening—” says Claire, suddenly sharp. “You’re going to help this young man fix the cupboard in your office. Right now. No excuses!”

Stephen grumbles, but doesn’t argue. Claire pats Finn’s cheek, and his nose goes even redder than usual.

Sean feels weird again, like when he saw Esteban cleaning out Finn’s car. Should it have been him, fixing his grandmother’s kitchen?

Claire bends over the sink, scrubbing at a pile of dishes.

“Hey… Can I help?” Sean asks.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” Claire smiles. “Here—grab that towel.”

Sean tries to smile, too. Drying dishes is pretty boring, but at least his stomach doesn’t feel so tight.

“You know… I wasn’t so sure about Finn, at first,” Claire admits. “He seemed like… a bit of a rough character. But I guess it’s true what they say, about judging books by their covers.”

“Yeah… He’s pretty cool.”

Claire glances at Sean. “I think he’s a lot like your father.”

Sean almost drops a wet plate.

“They’re both… their own people, doing things their own way, even if they have to do it alone. And they’re good at fixing things.” Claire nods her head in the vague direction of the staircase. “Like my vase. Remember?”

It takes Sean a moment to recall the vase upstairs, the one that shattered so loudly when Sean was even younger than Daniel. “Dad fixed it?”

“You both did!” Claire says, smiling again. “You really don’t remember? I was so nervous! All those sharp pieces… But Esteban was so careful with you, so patient. It turned out alright, in the end.”

Sean doesn’t reply. He’s too lost in thought; like Stephen, on one of his imaginary trains. One Sean is powerless to stop.

Esteban arrives tomorrow.

*

“Sean. Wake up.”

Finn shakes him roughly. Too roughly. Sean groans in protest, rolling over into Daniel’s side of the bed. He kind of hopes Finn will give up and slide next to him. He can be the Big Spoon.

But Finn shakes him even harder.

“Sean. Your dad’s here.”

Dad?

Dad is—fuck, already?!

Sean jumps out of bed. _Shit!_ They were supposed to have a day. The whole damn day! Dad wasn’t going to get here until after dinner. He must have taken time off work—or maybe he always had today off. Christmas Eve is tomorrow, after all.

Sean pulls a pair of crumpled jeans off the floor. Finn is already dressed. Sean changes out of the skull shirt, too, and puts on one Dad is more familiar with.

Sean descends the staircase; Finn follows behind him. It feels like a fucking death march.

The staircase empties out into the foyer. Esteban is there, waiting. He took off his coat, but not his shoes. Does he not care about Claire’s rules, or is he not planning to stay long?

“Daniel!” Claire’s voice reaches them from the back porch. “Can you come here for a minute, honey? No—just Daniel, please.”

Sean looks at the door. The hallway. Finn is sitting on the staircase with his elbows on his knees. No Stephen, though. Maybe he went out. Or maybe he’s hiding. Maybe _that’s_ where Daniel gets it from.

“Hey Sean,” Esteban says.

Sean forces himself to look at Esteban’s face. Shit. He looks… older. There are lines under his eyes that Sean never noticed before. Dad always worked really hard, but for the first time in Sean’s life, he looks truly… exhausted.

“ _¿Estás bien?_ ” he asks. Sean shrugs.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Dad asks him if the Reynolds have been treating him well. Sean answers with another _Yeah_ and Esteban makes a dry joke about it, telling him not to get too excited about seeing his old man. It’s… not as bad as Sean thought it would be, but it’s still fucking weird, because Esteban says all of it in Spanish. Sean can’t figure out why that makes him so uncomfortable.

It’s like… Dad’s making sure he didn’t forget. Or like he’s trying to remind Sean—or Finn—or Claire, who can’t even hear them—that the name _Diaz_ doesn’t belong out here.

“What is it, Grandma?” Daniel asks, stepping inside. Sean turns, grateful for the distraction, and sees Claire down the hall, shutting the back door. Daniel looks around in confusion—his eyes go wide when he spots Esteban.

Daniel kind of… spasms, like he just felt an intense, overwhelming need to run. He’s practically seconds from slipping through the hole in the fence and hiding in Chris’ treehouse.

But Dad opens his arms wide.

“Hey, Danny-boy! Come give your _papito_ a hug!”

Daniel sprints down the hall. Dad didn’t even have to offer him a Chock-O-Crisp.

Sean’s throat goes tight, watching them embrace. Of course this is easy for Daniel. Of course Dad _makes it_ easy for him. Every bad word that costs Daniel a quarter costs Sean four times as much.

Claire shuffles into the foyer.

“See? Still in one piece,” she says too pleasantly. Esteban doesn’t respond. Instead, he places a hand on top of Daniel’s head.

“Did you have fun?”

“Y-Yeah! Grandma and Grandpa are really nice! And their neighbor is awesome! He’s my age, and he loves super heroes! And guess what? Grandpa built him a treehouse!”

Wait—what?

“Oh, yes!” Claire laughs. “Stephen’s very proud of the treehouse next door.”

Sean didn’t know that. He kind of assumed Charles built the treehouse. It’s hard to imagine Stephen getting off his ass and actually… doing something.

Maybe that’s not fair. Just because Stephen doesn’t want to fix cupboards, that doesn’t mean he can’t do something nice for the neighbor kid. Building Chris a treehouse was… pretty awesome.

He still hasn’t fixed the ladder, though. The one that made Chris break his arm.

“I picked up your car,” Esteban says, acknowledging Finn at last. Through the small, glass window next to the front door, Sean can see Dad’s tow truck, and Finn’s car attached to it.

“Thanks,” Finn says, tracing the tattoo on the back of his hand.

“Dad—” Daniel tugs on Esteban’s shirt. “Can we—”

“Let’s talk about it in the car.”

“But…”

“Come on!” Esteban smiles, shaking Daniel slightly, as if to get him excited. “Go grab your things! I bet you have lots of cool stories to tell me.”

“Dad, can we stay for Christmas? Please?”

Daniel tries to find his innocent baby-brother face, but he’s too earnest, too frightened of Esteban’s answer. Dad keeps smiling.

“Don’t you miss having your own room, _mijo_?”

Daniel wrinkles his nose. “Not really.”

“Well—Santa might not know how to find you, if we don’t get you home.”

“Dad… I really want to stay. Please?” His eyes begin to water and Esteban kneels down. He can tell a _No_ is coming. “Please, Dad! Please! I can’t go yet! I didn’t say goodbye to Chris!”

Daniel starts sobbing. Dad grasps his upper arms, tries to console him, but Daniel only wails louder.

“We were going to explore the troll forest! Please! I don’t care about presents.”

“Daniel…” Dad says, pleading almost as hard as his son. Claire steps forward.

“Of course, you’re very welcome to stay, Esteban.” She folds her hands, elbows bent at the waist. “Very, _very_ welcome.”

Finally, Esteban looks at Sean—as if Sean’s opinion ever mattered to him. Still, Sean tries to wordlessly communicate that only an absolute _shit_ would make Daniel leave right now.

Esteban drops his gaze. He’s clearly outnumbered.

“Alright,” he sighs. “We don’t have to go right away.”

“R-Really?” Daniel hiccups.

“Sure. I don’t know about Christmas, but… we’ll at least stay the night.”

“Oh!” Claire crosses the foyer as Dad gets to his feet. She takes his hand in both of hers. “That’s wonderful to hear. Truly.” She smiles at Esteban, then Daniel, then Sean. “All my boys under one roof. I feel so blessed.”

Daniel sniffles wetly, wiping the tears from his face, but already jangling with excitement. No doubt he’s plotting to stay through New Year’s.

Sean shoots a look at Finn—or, tries to. The staircase is empty. Sean doesn’t know when he left.

*

The couch in Stephen’s office has a hideaway bed. It looks even less comfortable than Finn’s spot on the floor upstairs, but that’s where Esteban will be sleeping.

“Why don’t you open the other bedroom?” Daniel asks. He tries to be subtle, but his eyes are far too eager. Sean actually can _see_ Claire swallow down her reply.

“Leave it alone, _mijo_ ,” Dad says softly. He sounds like Sean, pulling Daniel away from Cassidy.

Daniel crosses his arms. “Can I go see Chris now?”

A pause. It’s been a whole week since Daniel’s seen his father, but all he cares about is his friend. Dad’s obviously hurt, as much as he tries to hide it.

Sean doesn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, go play,” Dad says.

Daniel hurries out of the room. Sean follows. No way in hell he’s staying behind with Dad.

Finn’s on the living room couch, reading. He scrambles upright when he sees Sean and Daniel pulling on their shoes. His book hits the floor, and no one picks it up.

“Are you guys coming, too?” Daniel asks. He actually sounds hopeful.

“If it’s cool with you,” says Finn.

“Yeah! We have a surprise for you. Official _Spirit Squad_ business.” He whispers their team name, like it’s some big secret.

All three of them climb through the hole in the fence. Sean lands on the other side with a wet squish; there hasn’t been any snowfall since Sunday, so the lawn is mostly green and brown, with only rare clumps of white.

Chris isn’t in his treehouse. Daniel climbs down the ladder with a sheet of paper clamped between his teeth. He looks like a puppy, bringing in the newspaper. Sean reaches for it, but Daniel snatches it back.

“It’s a _coded message_!” Daniel insists. “Only _I_ can read it!”

Sean rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue.

“Chris says… He’s scouting ahead! C’mon!”

Daniel takes off towards the woods. He looks back, waving his arms.

“Come _on_! What if the trolls eat him?!”

“Then we’ll hafta kick some troll ass!” cries Finn, already on Daniel’s heels.

Usually, Sean wants to be first in a race, but today he lags behind. He watches his feet; his shoes are already caked in mud. Leaves stick to him with each step, and Sean thinks about the woods behind Eric’s cabin. How the dirt clung to his shirt before Dad washed it.

Sean wishes he’d stayed there, on that forest floor, all tangled up in Finn. All tangled up in _himself_. It was like… for that moment, he knew exactly who was. Who he would grow into, given enough water and sunlight. Language didn’t matter; swear words didn’t cost anything and his thoughts came in both English and Spanish, swirling through his head like music. It was all a part of him, one glorious, complete picture, splayed out on dry, warm leaves.

But here… Everything’s divided, broken up into pieces. Claire’s house. Finn’s apartment. Home. Sean exists in all of these places and none of them, stranded on the road in between.

“Holy shit! Lookit this place!”

They’ve come to clearing. No, not a clearing, exactly—more like a hole in the middle of the forest, a ring of trees protecting a small cave. It’s so clandestine, so hidden away that Sean’s reminded of the fort beneath Daniel’s bunkbed. He can barely see the sky through bare branches.

With spray-paint and old junk, Chris and Daniel have made this place their own. The cave isn’t very deep, but there’s enough room for a crateful of plastic swords and water guns. The Spirit Squad logo is emblazoned on the wall.

Chris greets them by crossing his arms. Daniel mirrors him, but his face twists with worry.

“Chris! My dad’s here.”

“What?!”

“But he said we could stay until tomorrow! And- and maybe Christmas!”

Chris’ eyes go round and hopeful. “Maybe there’ll be a blizzard, and you’ll _have_ to stay!”

Sean snorts. “How’re you gonna play together if we’re snowed in?”

“ _Duh_! We’ll talk on the phone,” Daniel says.

Sean wonders why calling each other from next door is more exciting than calling each other from a different state. It doesn’t make any sense.

Or… maybe it does. Texting Lyla from across the street is different than texting Finn from across town. Sean doesn’t know why. It’s like… like he _could_ go knock on Lyla’s door, if he wanted, but Finn lives in a different neighborhood. A different world.

They spend the morning playing with knives and firecrackers. It’s stupid and dangerous, but Sean doesn’t give a shit. A trip to the hospital sounds like fucking paradise compared to what awaits him on the drive to Seattle.

Finn spray-paints a monster on one of the tree trunks and they take turns throwing his knife at it. Daniel’s aim really sucks, and so does Sean’s, at first. Finn draws close to him.

“Hold your arm, like this…” Finn says, running his fingertips up Sean’s wrist and sending ripples of warmth significantly lower. “Better alignment. Better aim.”

Sean takes a deep breath. Hits the bullseye.

“Fuck yeah! Just like that, sweetie!” Finn winds his arm around Sean’s waist, pulling him into a sideways hug. It’s an affectionate gesture, one the boys are used to seeing by now—or at least, Daniel is. Chris still looks at them the way he did when they first met. Like they’re coolest guys in the world.

Finn retrieves his knife and offers it to Sean. “First time is luck. Second time is skill.”

Sean takes aim. Throws—

“ _DON’T MISS!_ ” Daniel cries, making Sean do exactly that.

“You little shit!”

Sean chases Daniel. It ends with them laughing.

They’re all really hungry by lunchtime, but none of them want to go back to Claire’s. Chris runs to his house instead and comes back with chips, crackers and—the real victory—marshmallows.

They aren’t the first people to take refuge here. At the mouth of the cave is an improvised firepit; Sean can imagine Claire’s old neighbor sitting out here with his dogs, drinking beer. Finn and Sean clear it out while Chris and Daniel have a ‘wood race.’

Marshmallows turn black and golden brown over the campfire. Finn pulls one apart with his fingers; it sticks to his thumb in white rivulets and he sucks it clean, staring at Sean from beneath blue bangs. Sean flushes and looks away.

Daniel is quiet. Almost in a daze. He stares at the orange flames and doesn’t notice when his marshmallow catches fire, burning away to nothing on the end of a long stick.

“You okay, _enano_?”

Daniel blinks. “Huh? Oh… Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Nah, c’mon… You’re thinkin’ somethin’,” says Finn. Daniel glances at Chris, then back at the fire, contemplative.

“I was thinking… about what it would be like to live out here. For real.”

Sean laughs through his nose. “You gonna catch us a rabbit for dinner, wolfboy?”

“Maybe! I could set up traps. Then we’d never have to go home.”

Chris pokes the fire with his stick. “I’d miss my dad.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess… I would, too.” Daniel goes quiet for a moment, taking another marshmallow and letting it burn. “It’s weird. I was so mad at him. But… when I saw him… that didn’t matter anymore.”

Sean stares at the ground. At muddy shoes and wet leaves.

“That’s what happened to me,” Chris says. “When… when I fell out of my tree.”

“Whad’yu mean?” Finn asks.

“I was… really angry with my dad. He said some stuff and... I wanted to run away. But then I broke my arm, and all I wanted was my dad.”

He pokes the fire again. Embers swirl into the air, glowing and mysterious, like snowfall and cigarettes on Claire’s back porch.

“What kinda stuff did he say?” Finn asks.

“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t mean it,” Chris shrugs.

But it does matter to Sean, and even more to Finn. It matters so much, Sean can see the muscles tightening in his jaw. The gears in his mind, spinning.

“Chris?” Sean says, though that’s not who he’s really speaking to. “You know… we’re all here for you, right?”

Chris beams. “Yeah! The Spirit Squad will be united forever.”

He crosses his arms. The rest of the team imitates him—but for once, Finn is the last to join.

*

Eventually, they do go back to Claire’s. All four of them.

“Why, _there_ you are!” Claire says, as Sean closes the door behind him. He and Finn start taking off their shoes, but of course Chris and Daniel forget. They dash to the kitchen counter, allured by a half-dozen apple pies.

“Whoa! Are these for us, Grandma?”

“Not all of them, honey.”

Oh, right. The big Christmas Choir is tonight. Sean’s seen the flyer taped to the refrigerator, promising pies and eggnog. He kind of wanted to go—until Dad showed up.

“Is dinner almost ready?” Daniel asks. Claire smiles, and shuffles out of the way.

“Ask your father.”

And there’s Esteban, wearing Claire’s apron, bent over to pull a loaf of garlic bread out of the oven. Pasta sauce bubbles on the stove.

“Almost there!” Esteban grins. He’s in a better mood. Or pretending to be. Sean can’t tell the fucking difference anymore. “Hey, you must be Chris!”

“Uh… yeah! That’s me!”

Estban leans forward on the counter. “Ouch, what happened there?”

“Fell out of my treehouse. I’m… pretty clumsy.”

Chris shows off all the drawings on his cast; Esteban patiently listens as he describes each one. A chibi Power Bear from Daniel. A raccoon from Sean. A lightning bolt that only his _teammates_ will recognize. 

The dinner table is pleasantly crowded that night. Chris calls Esteban a Super Chef and Claire won’t stop beaming about how nice it is to be cooked for. Daniel tells Esteban about the Christmas market, and decorating the tree. He doesn’t mention a girl with purple hair.

The moment Claire and Stephen leave for choir, Chris and Daniel run upstairs and start launching toys off the mezzanine. There probably hasn’t been so much noise in this house since… ever.

Esteban starts washing the mountain of dishes. Sean doesn’t offer to help. Instead, he follows Finn out onto the porch for a smoke. He doesn’t give a fuck if Esteban sees.

Sean brings the cigarette to his lips. Finn leans close to light it. The wind threatens to blow out the small, delicate flame in his palm, and suddenly Sean wishes it would snow. He wants to see the world as he did when the week began, sparkling and new.

But it doesn’t snow. The week is over. And Sean is standing on wet concrete, avoiding his dad.

The door opens behind him. Esteban steps onto the porch. Sean stares across the lawn, watching the sun set behind barren trees. Finn does, too.

“Can I get one of those?” asks Esteban.

Finn extends his arm sideways. Esteban takes a long drag, and lets it out slowly. Sean can see the white cloud of his exhale, swirling into the air.

“Is that Chris’ treehouse?” he asks.

Sean looks, but his eyes are the only part of him that moves. He stares at the treehouse beyond the wooden fence. Even in the waning light, he can see the ladder’s broken rung.

“Yeah.”

“Mm,” Esteban replies.

More silence. Finn shuffles beside Sean.

“Things have to be different when we get back,” Esteban says. “You hear me?”

Sean doesn’t say anything. Heat pools behind his eyes.

“I know I can’t keep you two apart… and that I can’t stop you from doing what you want. But pulling Daniel into your shit? That’s unacceptable.”

Right. Daniel.

This is all about _Daniel_.

Daniel’s the do-over. The one Dad can get right. The one Karen didn’t ruin. The fresh start. The clean snow.

And Sean—Sean is just like that treehouse, the one Stephen is so proud of but won’t ever bother to fix. He’s a busted car on the side of the road. A vase no longer worth mending, for Esteban’s patience has long run out.

Sean drops his cigarette and walks inside. Finn and Esteban aren’t far behind.

Great. He can’t even get one fucking _moment_ alone.

“Where’s your brother?” Esteban asks.

_How the fuck should I know?!_

Sean almost says as much to his dad, but he notices all the toys scattered across the living room floor. The mezzanine is empty—Chris and Daniel must be playing somewhere else.

Really, _really_ quietly.

“Prob’ly next door…” Finn says, but that doesn’t make any sense. They would’ve gone through the back, scrambled through the hole in the fence…

Sean hurries to the front door. No sign of Chris and Daniel. Where are their shoes? Where-

“ _What is this crap?!_ ”

Sean runs for the staircase. Finn is already halfway up. The door to Karen’s room is wide open, the lock undone with a dull butter knife, just like Chris’ garage.

“D-Dad! I’m sorry! You weren’t supposed to—”

Chris and Daniel huddle together on Karen’s bed. A cardboard box lays overturned on the mattress, and inside it, dozens of photos. Birthdays and Christmases and Halloween parties with Karen’s smile, Karen’s bright, shining face—

“I don’t want to hear it!” Dad shouts, and Daniel’s face twists with anguish. Tears spring to Chris’ eyes. He looks at the floor, just like Finn.

“Leave them alone!” Sean cries, surprising everyone, but no one more than himself. It’s just that—yeah, this sucks, this _fucking sucks_ , but Daniel’s not the one who left. Daniel’s just a cardboard box in the garage, full of memories Karen didn’t want.

“They went way over the line here!” Dad argues.

“He wouldn’t have if _you’d_ given him a photo!” Sean snaps. “That’s all he wanted!”

That’s all Claire wanted. They couldn’t be together, but the distance between them didn’t have to be so absolute. Maybe Stephen couldn’t have built them a treehouse, but they could’ve had cards signed _Grandma and Grandpa_.

“What did you think would happen, if you just… hid all of Karen’s stuff away?!” Sean says. “Did you think we’d just _forget_ that she left us?!”

“I _want_ to forget!”

Esteban is shaking. Sean has never seen him so… undone. Not even when Karen left. Back then, he just held Sean and let him cry—but now, now his hands are trembling, balled into fists at his side.

And Sean gets it. Sean gets it more than Esteban can know. He wants to forget Cassidy— _tried_ to forget Cassidy. Deleted her number; her photos, her messages. Threw out the guitar pick he once saved so lovingly; refused to even speak her name. But no matter what he does, he’ll never erase the time they spent together, or stop Finn from caring about her.

“You can’t change who our mother is!” Sean says.

He hates those words. They’re every bit as difficult for Sean to say as they are for Esteban to hear. Karen _isn’t_ his mother. Not anymore. But she’s still a part of him. And Sean has to… live with that.

Esteban straightens. Squares his shoulders. He’s not a small man.

“You’re _my_ sons,” he says. “And we’re going home.”

“No!” Daniel wails.

“Get your coat. Now.”

Daniel clings to Chris, who’s outright sobbing. “Dad, please!”

“ _Right now_.”

Finn steps forward at last, hands raised. “Hey… let’s all chill out…”

“I don’t want to hear from you!” Esteban jabs a finger at Finn, who immediately steps back. His raised hands become a surrender, but Esteban presses in. “You think I don’t know whose fault this is?!”

Finn’s back hits the wall. He stares over Esteban’s shoulder, refusing to look at the ground but unable to meet his eye.

“Dad, stop it!” Sean cries.

“No, Sean! I’m sick of this crap! The lying, the stealing? Running away? We had none of it before _you_ brought it into my house!” He thrusts a finger into Finn’s chest, but this seems to embolden Finn, somehow.

“ _Back off me, man_!”

“Or what, tough guy? Huh? You think you scare me? You think I’m impressed?!”

“You don’t fuckin’ know me!”

“You’re a thug! And I don’t want you _anywhere_ near my sons!”

Finn shoves his way to the door. Panic runs through Sean like knives.

“Finn, wait—”

Esteban catches Sean by the wrist. Finn disappears through Karen’s door, down the stairs—

“ _Let me go.”_

“Enough, Sean.”

“ _Let me go!”_

Sean twists away. Esteban grabs at him again, but Sean shoves his father away in a desperate, childish gesture.

“No, Dad! You can’t keep _doing_ this!”

Fuck, he doesn’t get it! He doesn’t _see_. Esteban keeps doing this, over and over, discarding the pieces he doesn’t want in Sean’s life, like Sean doesn’t have enough holes, like Sean can’t use all the pieces he can get.

“You can’t push away _some of_ me, and expect the rest to stay!”

Esteban blinks. And finally—

finally—

lets go.

Finn is in the driveway, trying and failing to detach his car from Esteban’s tow truck. He doesn’t have his coat, and neither does Sean.

But it’s snowing again.

“Finn!”

The shout makes Finn turn away, and walk down the dirt road.

“Finn, wait!”

He doesn’t.

“You _promised_!”

Sean catches Finn where he stands, silent and still. His expression is hard but hurting; a shield raised far, far too late.

“You don’t wanna follow this road, Sean. I ain’t goin’ anywhere you wanna be.”

“I want to be with _you_!” Sean pleads. He doesn’t care about anything else. He’ll take this road as far as it’ll go, even if they have to walk, even if he has to carry Finn on his back.

“Why?!” Finn demands. “I ain’t done nothin’ but dragged you down, made you just as broke and busted as I am.”

“I was always broken,” Sean says. Finn scoffs, but it’s true. He broke the day Karen left—maybe even before. His whole life has been attempt after attempt to gather up the pieces, to glue them together like the sharp edges of a vase, and every time he gets close, every time he thinks things might be okay, with real vegetables in his soup and no empty stools at the counter, his life shatters all over again.

He’ll never pick up all the pieces. He needs to choose just one.

“Finn.”

Sean closes the space between them. Finn’s cheeks are flushed with cold. Snowflakes dot his blue hair with white.

“ _You’re worth sticking to_.”

Finn exhales. His mouth stretches in a way Sean has finally learned to read—a way that means Finn is holding back tears.

He takes Sean’s hand.

And they sprint down the road.

*

This is stupid. And reckless. And if Sean thought about it for even half a second, he’d know that it could never really work—like when Daniel wanted to live in the woods forever.

So he doesn’t think about it. He just runs.

The railyard is nothing like Stephen’s train set. It’s dirty, and massive, and when the whistle sounds it reverberates all the way through Sean’s chest, making him feel hollow and small.

“This is it!” Finn says, jostling at Sean’s side. A train rolls by, and there, on one of the rusted cargo pallets, is a perfect opening. “Go—fuckin’ _go_!”

Finn reaches it first. He mounts the train with ease, grabbing tight and hauling himself up, like he was born for it, like this is always where his road was going to lead.

Sean follows. Grabs the railing just like Finn, and pulls himself up.

Then crashes back down.

“ _Sean_!”

He hits the ground with a terrible, sickening _snap_. Sean lies on the snow-speckled gravel, screaming, _wailing_ , but the train blows its whistle, drowning him out, swallowing him up.

And suddenly, the anger and arguments don’t matter. All Sean wants is his dad.

*

Sean won’t be running track for a while. Or driving. Or going to work—if he had work to go to.

The doctors won’t tell Finn anything because he isn’t family, and since Sean is a minor, they dumb down their explanation to the words _broken_ and _leg_.

Yeah, no shit.

They’ll tell him more when his dad arrives. Finn called Esteban from Sean’s phone, shaking next to the hospital bed. Through the anesthesia and meds, Sean vaguely recalls that long walk down the stairs, when Dad arrived at Claire’s house. This is worse. This is like… waiting for the drop, as the noose hangs tight around his neck.

Sean thinks he’s falling asleep.

He does fall asleep. The next thing he’s aware of is Dad’s voice.

“Are you okay, _mijo_?”

Sean opens his eyes. Tries say something, but stops himself, because Dad isn’t talking to him.

Finn and Esteban stand near the door. Dad holds Finn’s face between his hands while Finn slouches into himself, arms around his own waist and cheeks streaming with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Finn sobs. “S’all my fault.”

“It’s alright—”

“I’ll disappear. You’ll never hear from me, I swear…”

“Look at me.”

Finn won’t. His chest heaves. He looks so small next to Esteban. He looks even younger than Sean.

“Look at me, _mijo_.”

Esteban smiles, gently. The scar under his lip curves with it, like he’s smiling twice, and Finn’s red-ringed eyes finally look up. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

“But you weren’t wrong. All the stuff you said-“

“Not Claire’s house. _Mine_. I should have asked you to stay. I should have fought for you, the way I’d fight for any of my sons.”

Finn blinks rapidly, like everything moving too fast. Like Esteban is a train he doesn’t want to miss.

“I… I ain’t…” Finn struggles, breathless from crying. “You can’t… _fix_ me.”

“You’re not broken, _mijo_. You just need a little care.”

Sean startles them with a sharp inhale. He doesn’t know when it started, but he’s crying as hard as Finn.

Dad smiles at him. At both of them. He’s still cradling Finn’s face.

“You want to be part of this family, and I took that for granted. I’m sorry.”

He strokes a thumb across Finn’s cheek, across the tattoos beneath his eye, accepting every inch of him, every scar and mark and jagged piece.

Finn falls into Esteban. Esteban holds him tight. In this moment, his arms are for Finn—but his smile is for Sean, shining over Finn’s shoulder like a sunlight through a window.

And Sean remembers now. The vase, shattering across the floor. It was so loud, he had to cover his ears. He was scared; scared that Stephen would grip him in firm hands and steer him into time-out; scared that Claire would needle him with sharp words and that Mom and Dad, already so tense, already eager to leave, would hate him forever.

He hid beneath Mom’s childhood bed, hugging an old bear with blue button eyes. He didn’t come out when they called him name. He wanted to live under that bed forever.

He saw Dad’s feet. Heard Dad’s voice.

_When you’re ready to come out, I’ll help you fix it._

Dad smiled then just as he smiles now, full of forgiveness and understanding, telling Sean that no matter what he breaks or where he hides, Dad will always be there to help him fix it. When he’s ready.

And Sean thinks, maybe… he is.

*

Sean is home in time for Christmas dinner. He has a set of crutches, but Finn and Dad help him into the house, his arms draped over each of their shoulders.

Daniel feels bad for exactly five minutes before he starts calling him, _Grandpa Sean_. Claire smothers him with blankets and pillows on the living room couch.

“You must have been so scared,” she says, cupping Finn’s cheek. Sean isn’t sure how much she knows, but it seems like this time—just this once—she isn’t going to needle anyone.

They exchange gifts. Or, Claire and Stephen do. They bought some presents earlier in the week; a talking Power Bear for Daniel, professional art pens for Sean, and a mystery series for Finn. Esteban gets a cookbook, which is… kind of lame, but at least Claire is trying.

Mostly, they just give cards. Daniel gets a letter from Santa (“ _I knew it!_ ”) explaining that all of his presents are in Seattle.

“Here, _enano_. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to finish it.”

Sean’s gift to Daniel is a short comic: _The Awesome Adventures of the Spirit Squad_. Daniel’s face lights up brighter than the Christmas tree.

“Finn, look! It’s us!”

Finn tears his eyes away from his card. _Happy Holidays_ , it says. _From Dad_.

“Dude, that’s fuc— frickin’ _awesome_!”

Chris comes over the next day. He loves the comic, too, and he’s pretty stoked that Daniel is staying an extra few days, even if it’s because Sean is hurt. He and Daniel draw on Sean’s cast.

“Yours is bigger than mine, so you can have _way_ more drawings. Lucky.”

Sean snorts. Lucky. Yeah. Okay.

Charles knocks on the door that night. He says he’s just here to pick up Chris, but he can’t deny Claire when she pulls him inside. The adults stand around drinking coffee and eating apple pie while the kids play. Sean and Finn watch them from the couch; Finn is quiet as Charles talks to Esteban, both of them smiling and laughing. Esteban pats Charles’ shoulder. Finn shifts against the cushions.

“Bye!” Chris says, waving under his father’s arm. There’s a beat of calm when the door finally shuts behind them; Claire starts cleaning, and Stephen reads his newspaper, half-hidden behind the fish tank. Esteban takes Daniel upstairs to read him a bedtime story, and the whole time he’s gone, Finn doesn’t turn a single page of his book.

Dad descends the staircase. Finn stands up.

“Hey…”

He rubs at the back of his neck. Esteban gives him his full attention, but doesn’t speak. He merely waits, patient and quiet. _I’ll help you fix it, when you’re ready to come out_.

“Can I, uh… Can I talk’ta you ‘bout somethin’?”

*

Chris is stretched out on the living room floor. Daniel’s beside him. They stare up at the ceiling, but Chris’ gaze it distant, like he can see so much more. Clouds drifting by. Planets. Stars.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Finn says, propped against the wall. Sean, of course, is on the couch.

“Yeah, I know,” Chris sighs. He actually came in the front door this time, instead of through the hole in the fence. Claire, Stephen and Esteban are next door, with Charles.

“You got any family ‘round here? Aunts, uncles?”

“Cousins!” Daniels adds, like there could be nothing cooler in the world. Sean’s almost insulted.

“Just my grandma and grandpa,” says Chris. “I’ll… probably stay with them. They wrote to Dad. A couple of times, actually.”

“Are they cool? Like mine?” asks Daniel.

“Yeah… Pretty cool. They send me pictures of Mom, sometimes. From when I was a baby.”

They’re quiet for a while. Sean sketches Chris and Daniel in his notebook, capturing the way they complete each other; Daniel’s head by Chris’ feet, their hands united on the floor between them.

“Was this week even real?” Daniel wonders. A smile tugs at Sean’s lips. He knows _exactly_ what Daniel means.

“I think so,” Chris replies. His brow wrinkles. “But… when you guys go back… together… Will I still be a part of the Spirit Squad?”

Finn crosses the living room and pulls Chris to his feet.

“C’mon,” he says, leading the boys upstairs.

“Dude!” Sean cries in protest. He can’t exactly follow.

“Hold your horses!” Finn cries over his shoulder.

Soon, all Sean can hear is excited whispering. He focuses on his drawing. Adds a constellation of stars hovering above Chris and Daniel’s heads, forming the Spirit Squad logo.

Suddenly—

“Whoa!”

“I look _awesome_!”

“Go show Sean! Run!”

Chris practically flies down the stairs. He stands in the middle of the living room and strikes a heroic pose.

“Captain Spirit is here!” he shouts, his hair streaked with blue.

*

“Sean, honey, do you need help?”

“No, I’m fine,” Sean replies, trying not to sound too annoyed. Claire’s… _nurturing…_ is a little much, when it’s all the time. When you can’t go outside or even climb the stairs. Sean’s been spending a lot of time with Stephen lately. Listening to his stories. Hiding in his office.

Stephen’s not in his office now, though. Sean ambles in on his crutches and settles heavily on the hideaway bed. A large window hangs to his left, giving Sean a clear view of the front yard, covered in snow.

Finn and Esteban are in the driveway. They’re supposed to be fixing Finn’s car for the drive home, but instead they’re standing next to it. Esteban’s hand is on Finn’s shoulder, and Finn is staring at the ground—not in _that_ way, though. No, he looks like Sean after he’s failed a test, or after an argument with Daniel. Like he has to do better. Like he _can_ do better.

There’s a pain in Sean’s chest. Not the sharp, inexplicable pain from before, when Dad signed that _Get Well_ card or looked at Finn like a busted engine. No, this is more of an ache, a good, sweet pain, as equally warm as it is wretched.

Finn’s nodding. Dad says something and Finn meets his eye. Then Dad wraps Finn in a tight embrace, and Finn holds him back, face buried in Esteban’s collar.

They come inside an hour later. Sean’s moved to the kitchen counter, playing a board game with Claire.

“How’s it look? Do I have to walk home?” Sean grins.

“No worries, sweetheart,” says Finn, his hands stained with grease and eyes shining. “We’re good as new.”

*

Seattle, grey and rainy and perfect.

Home.

Sean feels as if he’s been away a hundred years. Traveled a thousand long roads and taken many different shapes, only to come back here, to a house that fits around him like a well-worn shirt, one that smells of Dad’s cooking and laundry soap.

Daniel’s room becomes Finn’s. Sean doesn’t mind. He’ll graduate in eighteen months; he can share a room with his little brother until then.

Lyla makes a joke about how unfair this is. She’s been trying to get adopted by Esteban for years. Sean tells her to deal with it—then invites her to stay for Taco Night.

“We’re going to have to get more chairs,” Dad says, laughing at his overcrowded counter.

*

Late one night, after the New Year, Dad brings a cardboard box out of his closet. Sean’s never seen this box before, but even though there’s no name on the side, he can guess what it contains.

Dad sits in the living room with Daniel. Sean retreats to Finn’s room, but he can still hear them through the door, talking softly. Sniffling. Dad actually laughs, once.

Finn stands up. Digs something out of one of his milk crates—Dad helped him empty out that filthy, old apartment. Sean doesn’t know what happened to Finn’s couch. He’ll probably never see it again.

Finn goes out to the living room. Doesn’t shut the door behind him. It stands open like the hole in a wooden fence.

It’s horrible and painful, that hole, but Sean gets to choose how he fixes it. He can ignore it. Or slam it shut.

Or he can use it to visit the boy next door.

Sean hobbles out on his crutches. Finn is on Dad’s armchair; everyone else sits on the couch.

“Sean, do you remember this?” Daniel asks, reaching across Dad. Sean forces himself to look at the photo in Daniel’s hand. His own face smiles up at him, cake smeared around his mouth and Karen laughing at his side.

“Not really,” Sean murmurs.

“I do,” Esteban replies. “You’d just started Kindergarten. And you couldn’t stop talking about some girl named _Lyla_.”

Sean snorts, and almost clamps a hand over his mouth. He can’t laugh at that. He can’t… _remember_ things that way. Can’t let these be happy memories. That would hurt to much, cut far too deep.

Daniel is glad for all the smiling faces, though. He runs his fingertips over Karen’s long, yellow hair and says, “I feel different now.”

“Good different, or bad different?” Dad asks.

“Good different. It’s like… there was a piece of me missing. But now that I know what she looked like, I know what _I_ look like.” Daniel makes a frustrated sound. “It’s hard to explain.”

Sean stares at the cardboard box. All the photos of himself, held lovingly in Karen’s arms.

“Can you see yourself better now?” Dad asks.

“Yeah.” Daniel hugs a photo of Karen and Sean, feeling her large, pregnant belly. “It’s a pretty good picture.”

“Only _pretty good_?” Dad laughs, jostling him.

They giggle and squirm beside Sean, and once again Sean feels spitefully, pitifully jealous of how easy this is for Daniel. It’s so fucking unfair. And of course Dad’s just laughing with him, pretending everything's fine—

“Sean?” Dad says. “You okay?”

Sean can’t bring himself to say _Yeah_.

“It’s different for me,” he says quietly, after a very long pause.

Dad _hmm_ s in his throat. “Yeah… I get it.”

No you don’t.

“We were really happy together,” Dad says. “That’s what makes this so hard… That’s why we want to forget.”

Sean looks at his dad. It takes Sean a moment to realize that Dad’s crying. Silently, passively—but crying, nonetheless.

And something… cracks inside of Sean. It’s an awful, much-needed release; like a bone that never properly set.

Dad fucking gets it.

These photos, the box Dad hid away where Sean and Daniel would never look—these are pieces of himself that he doesn’t want. Holes he’d gladly create. Like a guitar pick. Like a song Sean can’t forget.

Esteban wraps an arm around Sean’s shoulder. Sean leans into the embrace.

Finn’s been quiet, sitting in the armchair with his elbows on his knees. He stares at a photo in his hands, but this one came out of his milk crate, not the cardboard box.

Sean raises his voice ever slightly. “Finn? What’s that?”

Finn stirs, as if waking from a dream. He hands to the photo to Daniel.

“Those’re my brothers an’ me… ‘fore we got busted.”

“You look so different!”

He really does. No piercings, no tattoos. Daniel holds up the image of Finn and compares it to Sean at the same age—Daniel’s age. They kind of look like a sketch in Sean’s notebook, of two young boys staring up at the stars.

They look so happy. Innocent. Finn, before he went to juvie. Sean, before his mother left. Before they got scars and holes, black eyes and broken limbs. Before they were shattered into pieces.

And Sean thinks of Cassidy, also tired, also broken. How she fit so neatly beside Finn and Sean, until she ran away. All those tattoos on her arms, all those pieces she took from other people, just to make herself feel bigger; all those holes she left behind, just to fill her own.

Sean doesn’t want to be like that. He wants to use his shattered pieces to fit into other people, and to let other people fit into him. He wants to fill all chairs at his table and every room in the house. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why the boys in those photos couldn’t stay young and whole forever. Like everyone else, they were meant to be broken, again and again, so they could fit their pieces together with patience and care.

*

Christmas break comes to an end. Finn plays schoolbus for Sean and Daniel, dropping them off every morning, and picking them up every afternoon.

Everyone is stunned by Sean’s broken leg. His track team most of all. Sean says he’ll be better by Summer, and promises to sign up for tryouts in the Fall. Coach Aaron says to take his time getting better; there will always be a spot for him on the team.

His story spreads around school before he even has a chance to tell it. They make it sound way cooler than it was. Train hopping! At midnight! While running from the police!

He tells the truth to Jenn and Derek, though, because they’re the only ones beside Lyla that will actually listen. He doesn’t tell them why, exactly, they were running, but tells them that he was with Finn, and that he barely touched the train before he fell.

“Why was Finn at your grandparents’ house?” Jenn asks. She was always good at math—she can tell when something doesn’t add up.

“Oh. Because he’s…” Sean hesitates, tapping his crutch on the ground. “He’s kind of my boyfriend.”

“No fucking way!” says Derek. He grabs Sean’s arm. “Could you make him come to my party?!”

Jenn laughs. Of course that’s what Derek cares about. She meets Sean’s eye, still smiling, her eyes warm and kind. He’s cool. He always was.

*

Weeks go by. Months. Long enough for Sean and Finn’s clothes to get all mixed up in the laundry. Long enough that everyone starts making Summer plans. Lyla wants to be a camp counselor. Jenn’s going to Europe with her parents.

Sean picks up his phone.

 _Hey Boss_ , he types. He doesn’t have to wait very long for a reply.

_I haven’t been your boss in months_

_That explains the lack of paychecks_ , Sean replies, adding a smile emoji to the end.

_Haha you’re so funny. I got work to do._

Sean sighs. Come on, Boss, be cool. _I heard you’re looking for Summer help_

There’s a pause between messages. Then his boss says: _Maybe_

Sean grins at his phone. _What if I brought you a latte every morning?_

_Welcome to the Z-Mart Family, Sean Diaz_

*

Daniel’s running through the house, waving a letter in the air. It’s not from Beaver Creek.

“They said yes! They said yes!” he shouts.

“Yeah, dude, we heard you!” Sean yells from the couch. “The whole fucking neighborhood heard you!”

But Daniel won’t stop screaming and jumping. Dad’s not here to stop him—that’s why Sean can swear all he wants.

“Dude, calm down! Seriously.”

“Who’s gonna make me, _Grandpa Sean_?”

Sean vaults over the couch and tackles him. Daniel shrieks with delight as Sean tickles him mercilessly.

Finn throws open his bedroom door.

“ _’Scuse me_!” he shouts, so loud and stern that the brothers freeze in place. “Some’a us are tryna _study_!”

He shuts the door. The young wolves give him ten whole seconds of peace before starting up again.

*

For Sean, the best part of Summer isn’t sleeping in until noon, but the soft lips that wake him.

“Rise ‘n shine, sweetheart…” Finn whispers.

“Rather stay right here,” Sean replies, happily pinned beneath Finn’s weight. Finn kisses him again, then nuzzles the soft skin behind his ear.

“Come’ta my room tonight… We’ll have our own sleepover.”

Sean hums. Yes. _Fuck yes_.

He shuffles in the kitchen, wearing a _Misty Mice_ shirt. He notices the wolf on Finn’s and it makes him smile. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and milk; the refrigerator is covered in photos, drawings—and letters signed _Grandma and Grandpa_. Sean eats his cereal, leaning against the counter.

The entire living room is a massive pillow fort. Chris pops up from behind the couch. His hair is still yellow and blue.

“Enemy spotted,” he says into his hand, as if holding an imaginary phone. Daniel’s voice replies from the bathroom.

“Is he armed?!”

“Negative.”

“I _will_ pour milk on you!” Sean warns.

“Abort mission. _Abort mission!_ ”

The sound of a truck outside. Chris’ eyes snap to the window.

“Mail!” he shouts. Daniel bursts out of the bathroom and they both run out onto the lawn. Finn takes the opportunity to draw close to Sean once more and whisper about the games they’re going to play during their… _sleepover_.

“It’s here! Finn, it’s here!” Daniel shrieks. He and Chris scramble into a pair of stools and shove an envelope towards Finn.

Finn goes incredibly still. Sean grips him by the shoulder.

“Dad!” Sean calls. “Dad, get up here!”

Finn opens the envelope with trembling hands. Esteban emerges just in time to see his face split into a grin.

He passed his first round of exams. Though he’s not yet certified to work Esteban’s garage, he’s well on his way.

“That’s awesome!” Daniel shouts.

“You’re a… a Mechanical… Wizard!” says Chris, a new comic already brewing behind his eyes. “Like in a steampunk manga!”

“Hells yeah,” Finn says, unable to look away from the paper in his hands. Sean feels so happy, he just might burst.

Esteban places a heavy hand on Finn’s shoulder. Finn finally looks up.

“I’m really proud of you,” Dad says.

“Yeah?” Finn replies, mouth stretching in that familiar way. Dad grips him tighter.

“Yeah. You’re a smart kid. I’m proud of you, _mijo_.”

Dad catches Sean’s eye and smiles at him—then to Chris and Daniel, across the counter.

“I’m proud of _all_ my boys!” he laughs.

There’s a particular wall in the living room, where Dad displays Sean and Daniel’s artwork. That night, he frames the letter trembling in Finn’s hands, and hangs it under a drawing of the Spirit Squad.

**Author's Note:**

> I was really afraid to write this fanfic. The first part was meant to be a standalone piece; I wrote it in a fit of passion, and when it was done, I felt really good about it. It had a happy ending, you know? And it felt so done, so complete. And yet...
> 
> And yet I couldn't forget about Chris, and how he would fit into this particular AU. Chris, all alone in Beaver Creek, tumbling out his treehouse without Superwolf to save him! I had to help him. I had to! That desire burned in me the moment I finished Part One... and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to add to the story. I wanted to see more of Finn and Esteban's relationship! I wanted to see Esteban in Karen's childhood home.
> 
> Esteban. Oh Esteban. I enjoy writing him so much! I love how kind he is in the game, with just this like... hint of his pain, lingering underneath. I must have watched his scenes about a hundred times, trying to get his voice just right, trying to find the balance between "supportive, playful papito" and "stern, protective Papa Wolf." It was such a joy to throw him into these emotional scenarios, to bring him to the point where he actually loses his temper, and ultimately reconcile him with his sons. All of his sons!
> 
> I really hope this was an enjoyable read! I'd love to hear all of your thoughts! Thank you for joining me on this adventure, and helping me carefully assemble all these broken pieces. Sean, Finn, Chris, Daniel, Esteban... even Claire and Stephen... they're all connected now, all glued together by shared grief, and that, to me, is the most rewarding thing. That's why I write; to reach out with my grief, my experiences, and connect to others, to all of you. We're not broken--but we need to heal, from time to time. We just need a little care.
> 
> So, if you've made it this far, if you've chosen to be a part of my healing, I deeply and sincerely thank you. Truly. Thank you! <3


End file.
